


I tried to Spare You

by robinasnyder



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-12
Updated: 2012-06-13
Packaged: 2017-11-07 14:46:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/432307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinasnyder/pseuds/robinasnyder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Moriarty thinks he might die he instructs Sebastian Moran to do two things: Kill John Watson if Sherlock Holmes doesn't kill himself, and marry Molly Hooper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sebastian Moran was just a bit too much for the army. He'd been pushed out part because he made his officers uncomfortable and part because he found a better offer. He'd killed people all his life from the day he turned 18 and went and signed up at his local recruiting office, all the way up to the moment he sat in the chair across for him employer, while said employer spouted words that made Moran's mouth open and close like a fish.

"You're telling me this, why exactly?"

"Because you're literally the only man I can trust, and if it's not you it'll either be no one or someone worthless," James Moriarty said, sitting back in his chair and sipping his tea like he hadn't just told his right hand that he would be dying soon.

"Boss," Moran said, leaning forward a bit. He steepled his fingers in front of him, leaning forward so he had to look up at James Moriarty. "I'm not sure I understand. You want me to go to this girl and date her," he said.

"Yes," Moriarty said, rolling his eyes and dipping into his low-ridiculing tone. "I want you to date her."

"I'm not getting this, obviously… why this girl? Wasn't she just an in to get to Sherlock Holmes?" Moran asked.

"She's mine, Moran, and has been since I picked her," Moriarty said, leaning back in his chair. "You think I'd pick a worthless person to even pretend date?"

"I don't think you'd pick anyone to date," Moran said. Moriarty laughed… or as close as he ever got to laughing.

"This is why it's got to be you. You're as close to perceptive as it get."

"That may be true, but I still don't understand."

"I've been having her followed, keeping away the boring people. When I'm dead everything collapses and no one's going to care about my orders anymore. No one does anything except for money. No, if she's got to have someone, it's got to be someone interesting, and since she seems so dead set on dating and marriage it's going to be someone I picked."

Moran's mouth open and closed again like a fish, then he shut it. He wasn't sure what to say about his boss admitting that he was actively interfering with the love life of a perfectly normal doctor… well, not normal. Normal doctors didn't work on the dead. Maybe James Moriarty liked the irony. Moran just didn't see it.

"Why me?" Moran asked. Maybe when he was younger he'd entertained ideas of a family, a wife, children… maybe, someday. He hadn't even considered those things a possibility for himself since he came under Moriarty's employment.

"I already told you, were you not listening to me?" Moriarty asked in his normal sing-song voice. He let out a heavy and dramatic sigh when Moran just looked at him. He did that sometimes, could almost see through Moriarty. And when Moran could almost see his employer's core, then he'd actually get real answers. This wasn't a very common occurrence. "It has to be you. Because you're the only one who will do exactly as I asked, especially once I'm gone."

"Surely someone else-" would what? Be more suitable? Would also follow through? What?

"No," James Moriarty said. "Just you."

"Just me," Moran agreed. "Boss… are you sure about this, not me, I mean… are you sure that you're going to die?"

"I'm not sure," James Moriarty responded, leaning forward, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin on his palm. The fingers of his free hand strummed with a not quiet annoyed rhythm. "But, if Sherlock Holmes is as interesting as I hope he is, then it's a very real possibility."

Moran nodded. He didn't like it, but he didn't say it. He didn't like his boss setting his affairs into order like this. "What happens to your organization when this happens?"

"Hoping for a promotion, Seb?" Moriarty asked with a smirk, chuckling when Moran scrunched his nose. Sebastian Moran was an enlisted man. He'd never be an officer. "It all goes to hell. There's no one to replace me."

"That is true," Sebastian said, and Moriarty smirked.

"What, don't tell me you're going to miss me when I'm gone," Moriarty scoffed, thinking it was ridiculous.

"Yes, desperately," Moran admitted instantly without even batting and eyelash.

"Sentimentality will be your downfall," Moriarty crooned.

"Yours too, I'm afraid," Moran said with a heavy sigh. "Boss… please reconsider."

"No," Moriarty said, sounding like a petulant child. He was a child, such a child… and such a man, a man like Moran had never known. He'd never admired anyone so much. There was no other man he'd sprint into hell for. There was no other man he'd lay his life down for. No other man ever had his loyalty. No other man ever would… and no woman, not like James Moriarty had his loyalty to him.

"Jim, please reconsider," Moran said, his voice straining a bit.

Moriarty's face got dark. He didn't allow his employees free use of his first name. It was too familiar, and he was too far above them. Sebastian Moran got away with it only twice before. The fact that Moran never slipped, and had never called him anything less than James made Moriarty's eyebrows knit together. "No," he said again, all finality in his tone.

Moran let out a heavy sigh, his hands forming into fists to keep from rubbing them over his face. "I wish you would, sir," he said, becoming very formal.

"Duly noted, but no," Moriarty said, suddenly getting it. "I'm not your father, Sebastian." He even frowned a bit when Sebastian's head shot up and they made eye contact. They both held It for a while, brown and brown meeting, neither backing down.

"I know," Moran finally said, his words coming out very slow. "But I still love you, sir," he said.

Moriarty's face screwed up a bit, half a wince, half a pained smile, and mostly pity. He'd heard Moran speak to his father once that way, just once. After getting drop-kicked out of the army he'd told his dying father that it was being gay, a blatant lie, but Moriarty (a fledgling criminal at the time) had volunteered to play Moran's boyfriend so his old man could meet him. At the time, Moran had introduced him as James, and not called him by any name or title for the rest of the visit.

Moriarty remembered very clearly Moran's parting words to his father. A simple 'goodbye, sir.' It was odd, and odd thing to call a man that you had such clear affection for. But then, Sebastian Moran had always been and would always be merely an employee, a strong and unbreakable man who was in control of his life by putting someone else in control of it.

"Sentiment, Sebastian, sentiment."

"It won't make it less true, sir," Moran answered, sitting soldier straight.

"Whatever," Moriarty said, leaning back in his chair, sulking and bored of the conversation. "Just do what I tell you."

"Of course, sir," Moran said. "Do you need anything else?"

"Yes, a possible final mission… for the future, about half a year from now. I need you to pick two of your little killers from a job."

"Just two, sir?"

"Well, I need three, but the third one's got to be you."

"Do do what?"

"Provide Sherlock a bit of incentive."

"What will my mission be specifically."

"You kill John Watson if Sherlock Holmes doesn't kill himself."

"Alright," Moran said. He'd been asked to do crazier things, even just in that hour. "I'll be sure everything is ready when the time comes."

"Good, I hope you don't make me repeat myself," Moriarty said. That was why Moran was valuable. He rarely needed reminding of anything.

"Outside of this conversation, when was the last time I made you repeat yourself, boss?" Moran asked, smirking a bit as he settled back into familiar territory.

"Five years ago today. It's our anniversary Seb, I bought you a tie clip," Moriarty said, and both men laughed. Sebastian Moran needed a tie clip like James Moriarty needed Bermuda shorts.

* * *

Moran sighed, taking out his riffle and starting to clean it. Of course Holmes would jump, after Jim shot himself like that, how could Holmes not follow through. The news of the suicide of the 'fallen' detective was still all over, even with the funeral being all done. There also wasn't any news about the discovery of the body of Richard Brooke/James Moriarty. Moran had no idea how Jim had accomplished that, but that was the main reason why he was avoiding his boss's final wish. Moran really wasn't a fan of morgues. He could deal with it, but he just did not like the amount of bodies. A sniper normally didn't have to do clean up. A room full for dead bodies in freezers was just not Moran's area.

He finished cleaning his riffle, reassembled it, and slipped it back in its hiding place in his London flat. One thing about working for James Moriarty: it paid very, very well. Moran was smart, lived slim and put most of it away. If he wanted to he could simply live off interest for the rest of his life. But that was hardly any fun.

First step to getting to the morgue was to actually get dressed. He already had his pants on, but his hair was still a bit damp from the shower he hadn't really needed up had taken anyway. He'd even stopped for five minutes to debate about using the gift his employer had sent him for his last birthday. It had been a joke (Moran hoped anyway), a woman's perfume. Moran had thought himself smart to turn it on Jim and actually wear. He wasn't sure just how much the joke had been on him when he discovered he actually liked using it. It reminded him of a brothel worker in some African country (he honestly forgot which one). She'd been a dark skinned beauty who he'd felt affection for he could never explain. When he embraced her she had a musky scent he normally would have associated with man's cologne but he found very comforting on her.

A part of him rather thought that Moriarty had been kind with the gift, and another part of him thought it had just been a jab at Moran's sentimentality. He couldn't help it. He loved, adored a good woman. He purposefully forgot names, but he remembered faces and bodies and laughs and smiles and likes and dislikes and personal little quirks. Normally he was picking up prostitutes, but he'd pick up a barista or an attorney here and there when he didn't have any other choice.

The five minute decision had yielded that he'd spritzed himself with the perfume, It would make him feel less nervous in the morgue anyway, maybe cover up the dead-people smell… well, he could dream anyway. That five minute distraction happened before he decided to clean his riffle again, partly because a well tended instrument just worked better, and part because it was either cleaning or solitaire while he waited for his hair to dry enough. Solitaire was his addiction. He couldn't play on his computer anymore, but even playing with just cards he'd keep going until the sun had set. He didn't need to waste time like that.

Moran went to his bathroom again, grabbing the hair product Jim had picked for him, putting enough in to keep his blonde bangs out of his eyes and otherwise not caring how messy his hair looked like. As he washed his hands in the sink his eyes fixed on his own reflection in the mirror, specifically the claw marks on his right collar bone. They were gift from one of his women. He remembered this one's name: Angelique, black ops, the reason why he'd been kicked out of the army. He looked at the four scars more in the past two years than he had since he join Moriarty.

Angelique, one of Moran's women that he'd simply been more annoyed about than the rest… until he saw her as a homeless woman in Russia, more crazed than sane and even more deadly because of it. The scars served as a reminder now of the line he'd always walked. He was sane enough for his own purposes, and he'd always been the stable one, compared to his boss anyway. Angelique, a woman who had been a proud, straight up and down type of woman who was proud of her country and her work, a woman of duty and discipline, had lost her mind from what she'd seen and done and now lived half starved on the streets. He sometimes wondered just how close he was to butterfly net territory.

No matter, not that day anyway. He had a body to claim that day.

He walked back to his room and took much more care in picking from his identical white tee shirts, and identical pairs of jeans, and his one favorite pair of boots and his one favorite jacket. He slipped his sig into the waistband on his pants, under his shirt and jacket. He just felt naked without some kind of fire arm on his person.

Finally ready he headed out, grabbing the tube rather than a cab. He didn't know if it would get him to St. Bart's faster or not, he just felt more comfortable in a hot and sweaty press of living people than he did in a cab. Jim hated it, but then Jim was dead and wasn't around to tease him for his choice. He took the tube, and wished he could have just stayed on and ridden around all day rather than get out and walk into the hospital.

There are two ways to blend in while in plain sight. The first was to be so still and quiet and unassuming looking that no one would notice you. The second was to blend in, simply act like you belonged and no one would question it. He walked around for a while, asking directions once or twice until he found himself in the morgue, alone, thankfully. He didn't need to be seen asking about the body of James Moriarty or Richard Brooke.

Instead he started opening the freezers, pulling out the bodies and opening the bags just enough to see it wasn't Jim's body before zipping back up and pushing the body back into its place. He was very methodical about it, and he worked very quickly and quietly so no one would notice him. Unfortunately that didn't mean that he still wasn't caught.

"What are you doing?" asked a still, quiet, unassuming voice, a question, curiosity, pity, and a smile all wrapped up into the tone.

Moran quietly zipped up the body bag he'd been looking at and close the cabinet. "I'm sorry," he said, not turning around to look at the young woman. His heart was pounding. He'd hoped to get Jim's body out before he ran into anybody, especially not this woman. He'd seen the footage of her, and her photographs. Molly Hooper, of course she'd be the one to catch him.

"What are you doing exactly?" she asked again, surprised at having heard him apologize.

Moran took a deep sigh and turned around to look at her. She was adorable, he could see that. In a weird way he thought she looked like the female version of Jim's innocent puppy act. Her hair was pulled back away from her face, and he found his eyes drawn to her over large eyes and the soft pink lipstick she was wearing. "I hate morgues," he started. "I think my friend died, and I just didn't want to deal with the paper work and all the questions and everything else. I just wanted to find him. I'm not family, I've got no pictures of him, and I didn't want to get tossed out if I couldn't prove a connection. My father always said it was better not to ask and let someone say no when you can just take care of it on your own."

"I'm not sure that's very sound advice," Molly said, but she smiled sympathetically. "What does your _friend_ look like? Maybe I can help," she said.

Moran looked at her for a moment before he understood what she'd assumed. Boyfriend. Oh bloody hell, how was he supposed to deal with that? "Brown hair, about 5"8, brown eyes," he said. "35," he added, for specificity.

"Hmm," she said, going to the computer records. "When do you think he died?"

"Early this week," Moran said.

"No… no I'm sorry… no one here from this description. Have you tried calling his number?"

Moran let out a laugh and stopped when she seemed taken aback. "I'm sorry, this idiot does this, goes off and pretends to be dead. It's a cry for attention, and help. Idiot tries to kill himself, risky behavior, and then he doesn't show up for any of the meetings we set up, not at home and no sign of forced entry… I wasn't sure where else he could be," he admitted.

"I'm sorry, but he's not here I'm afraid," Molly said.

"Thank you… Doctor…?"

"Hooper, Molly Hooper," she said, smiling politely.

"Thank you for not… asking," he said hesitantly.

"I understand," she said quietly, looking very said. "I have… had a friend kind of like that. Sometimes it's just easier not to ask."

"No exactly hospital procedure," Moran said, finding that he'd come to lean against one of the tables near her.

"I hope your find your friend," Molly said.

"I doubt it. If he doesn't want to be found that he never will be," Moran said, sighing heavily, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away. "He's pulled this crap before. We actually had a funeral last time. I told him if he ever did it again that I'd actually kill him."

"Would you?" Molly asked.

Something in her voice made him look at her. She saw that he could do it, was gauging something in him. "No… I don't think so… no… I wish I could. The man drives me insane sometimes. He's such a child and he doesn't even realize it, what, what's so funny?" He asked, looking confused.

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping her eyes. The laughter was more from pain than something actually funny. She had been Sherlock Holmes' friend. He wondered if she'd performed the autopsy. She'd known Jim. If his body had been brought in, she would have identified him instantly, for sure. "It just sounds like someone… well, I think he was my friend, but I'm still not sure."

"Oh, that is a bad relationship," Moran said. "You should break it off with this man."

Molly blushed. "You make it sound like he's my boyfriend."

"Friendships can be abusive too," Moran said.

"I can't break it off," she said. She hesitated a moment. "He's dead."

"Oh… I'm sorry… was this soon?"

"Very," she said sadly, her eyes casting down.

Moran sighed heavily. "I'm sorry for bringing it up then," he said. " J-… James was a big fan of a guy who just died as well… I wouldn't be surprised if he went off because of it."

She hesitated at the name, gauging if it was just a coincidence or not. Good, that was smart, though she picked coincidence. Good for Moran, but a bit disappointing. "You mean Sherlock Holmes?" She asked.

"Yeah. James read his blog, the Doctor's too… wouldn't shut up about it either. I'd get detailed reports about tobacco ash every other week," Moran said, rolling his eyes. Moriarty had gone a bit nutty over _The Science of Deduction_ at the beginning. He'd laugh hard at John Watson's blog. "James was never very stable. I'm… Oh hell… I'm afraid he went and killed himself before of Sherlock Holmes," he said, letting just some of the anger he felt come out.

"I'm sorry… I lost a friend because of the same thing," she said softly.

"Really?" Moran asked.

She nodded. "Sherlock Holmes," she said, a bit of anger in her voice. Moran winced a bit. It was wrong to hear anger in a voice so sweet. He gave himself a bit of uncomfortable silence to gather his thoughts.

"I'm sorry… I know it's irrational… I know I can't even prove James is dead, but I'm just angry right now… and everyone at everything. It's pathetic to take my anger out on a dead man, but he seems like the least destructive person to be angry at," he admitted.

"It's okay," Molly said. "I mean, it's not okay for you, but it's okay for me, I mean-"

Moran reached out, placing a finger over her lips. She froze like a deer that just realized it was staring down the barrel of a gun. "I understand, move on," he said before lowering his finger.

"He always made everyone very angry," Molly said. "Even now."

"With the bullshit that Kitty whatever the hell he name is spewing out?" He asked. "Oh, don't look surprised. James swore up and down Moriarty was real."

"What do you think?" She asked hesitantly.

"I… trust James' judgment. I'm afraid I never knew enough about the situation to form my own opinion."

"You sound like you respect your friend very much," she said.

Moran smiled, honest sadness in his features. He didn't even have a body to bury damn it. Where was he? "James is… was…. He was there for me at the very worst times of my life. He helped me figure out what type of man I wanted to be. He was there with me when I said goodbye to my father and at the funeral, and he's been there for me for the past fourteen years," Moran said. He reached up, rubbing his eyes a bit. "I'm just sure… I'm just sure he's gone and I'm so… angry that he did it in such a way that I can't even bury him or even really grieve," he admitted. "And I still loved the bastard anyway."

"I'm so sorry," Molly said, very sympathetic.

Moran let out a very hollow laugh. "I'm sorry… we just seem to be constantly apologizing… and no, he was not my boyfriend… He was more like… for all his insanity it was more like he was my father," he told her quietly. "I know that sounds weird."

"No, not really. I think we all try to find people like our parents once we lose them… we don't want to be orphans," she said softly.

Moran smiled, but it was a pained smile. "That makes the most sense anyway," he said. He extended his hand. "Sebastian Moran," he said. He did smile when she shook his hand back. She was so tentative. She didn't realize how cute she was. She would never be beautiful, but she was pretty, and had a sweetness too her that he found nice. He wondered what she'd look like if she wore clothes that didn't look like she'd been gifted them from her grandmother. And it was sweet how she couldn't seem to tell that he was interested in her.

"Sebastian's a nice name," she said.

"And a long one. Seb's fine," he told her. "May I call you Molly, or would you prefer Dr. Hooper." He watched her blush and was proud of himself for not smirking. Give her two options, and informal one and a very formal one, which would seem like too much when he let her call him by his nickname.

"Molly's okay," she murmured.

"Then, Molly, would you mind if I offered to take you for coffee? It's the least I can do after you didn't call security on me… and helped me with my problem… and you seem like you could use it," he added. "Not that I mean you look tired," he realized, realizing how bad that sounded. "I mean that you seem like you're tired from the past week. Oh bloody hell, what's wrong with my tongue?" He asked.

Molly laughed, not a nervous, twittering laugh, but a real one. "It's nice to know someone else can be as awkward as me," she said, and a lot of her awkwardness cleared away. It was amazing what a bit of common ground could do to help a woman's disposition. Moran hadn't even meant to do it… though he supposed that was all the better. "Coffee sounds nice. I get off at five this evening," she said.

Moran smiled and pulled out his phone. "How about we exchange numbers, and you text me about fifteen minutes before you get out?" He suggested. "I was thinking of finding a bookstore anyway," he added.

"Do you live around here?"

"I have a flat in London," he said with a shrug. "Seriously, numbers," he said, smiling a tiny bit as she started to list off her number. He wrote his down for her after typing in her number to his phone. "I'll call you if I don't hear from you by five, then," he told her.

"Good!" She said, smiling nervously. "I mean… that sounds good… Sebastian," she said.

Moran gulped a bit when she said his name. How her voice could be more low and high at the same time was beyond him, but her voice dropped and octave out of nerves when she said his name. Hearing her speak like that did wonderfully bad things to his libido. "Just… just Seb is fine," he told her, pushing the point a little, though his voice had gotten deeper and airier as well.

"I'm sorry," she said, blushing some. "That's a bit much for me, is all," she said.

"We need to stop apologizing like this," he said with a smile. He hoped it looked relaxed, but he had no way of knowing. His heart was hammering again. He really did love women just as a gender. He loved it when he found a good one, heck anyone would do. This one was supposed to be the last woman in his life. Thankfully he was honestly interested in her. It seemed like good old Jim actually did know how to pick 'em.

"It's a bit hard to stop," she said, her voice getting the same airy tone.

Moran leaned in, they'd gotten very close when exchanging numbers. He was standing in front of her, s he just leaned in and kissed her cheek. "I am sorry for that, and I'm not taking back my apology," he told her. "You're rather adorable. I couldn't help myself," he said. He smiled in a way he knew was relaxed. "Coffee, at five, I'll be here, waiting outside the front doors for you," he said.

"Oh… okay," Molly said, bright red now.

Moran turned and walked out and he knew that she was watching him go. Brilliant… that didn't go near as bad as he'd been afraid it would go… now he had to figure out where they'd go after coffee. If she thought he was just going to let her go after a cup of coffee, she was insane.


	2. Chapter 2

_I'll meet you at your home,_

_Seb_

* * *

Molly spent the whole day smiling because of the text she'd gotten that morning. She'd only known Sebastian Moran for two weeks, but he already gave her the most promising relationship she'd had… ever maybe? She didn't know. It was like someone had handpicked him for her. He looked at her and she just felt like he was honestly interested in her. She normally never trusted that feeling. Normally her feelings were far, far off. What else could she call her attraction to Sherlock Holmes _and_ Jim Moriarty? But Sebastian was perfectly interesting and surprisingly interested in her.

Maybe that was why she was waiting for him to disappoint her. He'd vaguely described his life, an ex-soldier who did a bit of private work as a guard for very important men. He'd traveled and made good money until his last employer died (from old age, not anything to do with him). Now he was in London, living in a flat that he offered to give her the address of when he'd asked for her address. She didn't know it yet, but he'd already programmed it into her phone, along with her email address. He seemed so perfect, handsome, a bit older, well rounded, adventurous.

And yet she had a terrible sense of these things. She'd been very taken with Jim from IT, a man who'd made her heart flutter. She'd thought there was something hidden about him, something a bit dangerous, which had excited her at first. Then he turned out to be gay… well, maybe. It was still up in the air. The problem was that she clearly couldn't figure out what was good for her. She just kept being in love with Sherlock Holmes too… She was almost glad he'd finally picked up and left early last week. At least she didn't have to explain to Sebastian why there was a man in her apartment who was supposed to be dead.

That was the one point of tension she'd found so far in her and Sebastian's relationship: Sherlock Holmes. He had a great memory. He only remembered things his friend James had said about Sherlock's blog… but what he remembered was astounding, though he'd clearly never read it himself. He didn't know the website URL, and there were very crucial facts he missed, and the way he described things was like a third hand account of the contents… just a perfect third hand account. It seemed that James had really, really idolized Sherlock. Molly told herself that Sebastian was still grieving, that he'd lost the person closest to him in the world, that he'd blame anyone for his pain… but he seemed to really despise Sherlock. It felt like he hated Sherlock more than grief would require. He tried to censure himself, but she could still see it.

She expected him to disappoint her, to hurt her, to not be like she really thought he was. That was why, though she felt bitterly disappointed when he wasn't outside her flat, nor by her door, nor having been seen by her landlady she wasn't surprised. Of course he'd forget. It was a message from the previous night, past one in the morning. Of course he'd forget. She probably wasn't very worth remembering for someone like him, if he even was who he said he was.

She sighed heavily and unlocked her door, stepping inside. "Hello Toby," she said, smiling at the cat who mewled at her and twined around her legs. He normally only did that when he was upset. "Damn, did I forget to change your water this morning?" she asked, putting her bag down and pulling off her jumper, hanging it up in her closet. She went to the kitchen, changing out the water in her cat's dish and adding a bit of dry food to his bowl. Toby still kept trying to twine around her legs.

"What's wrong with you, you silly fuzzball?" she asked, going back to her living room and removing her shoes. She left then in their space by the door. She had nicer shoes in her closet. These were her everyday shoes. She pulled her ponytail out, running her fingers absentminded through her hair. She didn't think Sebastian was coming. It would probably be better to just change into more comfortable clothes.

"Come on, Toby, I know how you like to watch me change you little pervert," she said, scooping up the cat, who purred in her arms, craving her comfort. She hummed idly as she walked back to her bedroom, feeling sad, but relaxed.

Those feelings went away the instant she walked into her room and found Sebastian Moran asleep on her bed. She let out a very loud yell and actually dropped Toby. About the time she was doing that Sebastian's eyes shot open and he grabbed the gun he'd hidden under his pillow, aiming at her. They stayed like that for a second, her hands up. The gun aimed at her. He looked like he might actually kill her and then he lowered his gun and his intense gaze.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, though his deep voice still carried to her ears. "Don't scare me like that next time, I could have killed you," he said, looking both uncomfortable and upset.

"What are you doing in my apartment? How did you get in here? The landlady hadn't seen you at all," Molly gasped, grabbing her pounding heart now that she didn't have to be afraid of him shooting her.

"Oh, I broke in," he said like it was nothing.

"You broke in!" Molly's voice reached a new octave and Sebastian winced.

"I sent you a message," Sebastian said, seeming to be properly cowed and guilty.

"You said that you'd meet me at my home, not that you'd break in. How did you even get in?"

"The front door, which reminds me, I'm absolutely paying for a top of the line lock on your door, a stronger door, stronger hinges, a top line security system and better window locks… to start," he told her.

"So what, you just picked the lock and got in?" Molly asked.

"Well, yeah, I mean it was easy, and even being as out of practice as I am I got inside in under thirty seconds." Molly looked stunned to hear how fast he got in. "If lock picking was my area I probably could have gotten inside in under ten seconds," he said. Then she looked absolutely horrified. "Are you okay?"

"Are you serious about better locks?" she asked.

"Definitely," Sebastian said.

"Okay, I might forgive you," she said quietly, sitting down on the foot of her bed. He crawled closer, swinging his legs over the end so she noticed that he'd taken off his boots when he lay on her bed, and that his outer shirt was laying over a nearby chair. He looked amazing in those fitted white teeshirts he seemed to like so much.

"Which depends on?" he asked.

"Who said I had stipulations?"

Sebastian smirked and his eyebrows arched up toward his hairline. "James always had the same tone when he thought I needed to be forgiven for something."

"Did you break into his house too?"

"No, mostly he broke into mine."

"Really?"

"I'd find him asleep in by bed under the covers with his dirty shoes still on, which he knew drove me crazy, so he'd just keep doing it," Sebastian said, rubbing his chin. Molly could see a bit of the hair that was just starting to grow back after he'd shaved that morning.

"That's not very nice," She said.

"Exactly… so, what are your stipulations?" he asked. He clearly just wanted to get this part over with. She didn't particularly want to draw it out, but it annoyed her that he thought he could just push her past being angry when he'd broken in to her flat.

"What did you do while you were here, and what time did you get here?" she asked.

"I got here about two," he said, scratching his head. "I planned… planned since I obviously overslept, to cook you dinner. I even bought groceries for that purpose."

"You bought groceries?"

"I put them away how you seemed to have everything organized. I planned to start at 4:17," he explained. It was a bit past 5:45 at that moment. "So I put everything away and took a bit of inventory. I didn't go through your things… mostly," he admitted. "I checked your locks and windows, escape routes and entrances. I did go through your closet. We're going to have a talk about your wardrobe later," he said.

"What? Why?"

"Why?" Sebastian asked, laughing. It made her heart flutter, and her lips scowl. He wasn't supposed to make her feel good when he'd broken in and gone through her things.

"Yes, why?" She demanded.

"Molly, you're only in your mid-thirties, but your clothes are like… like you're either five years old or eighty… and I've actually met more fashionable five year olds and eighty year olds," he said.

"What do you know?" she asked, blushing scarlet. She suddenly felt very stupid. See? This was why it made no sense for him to be interested in her.

"I know a lot more than you'd think…. But I think I can guess a few things. Your mother died before you got to high school, right?" he asked, being gentle about asking.

"I was 14," she said. "But she was sick a lot before that."

"Then she never took you out and really went with you for shopping, or brow beat you into a better fit of clothes or anything like that, right?" he asked, smiling sadly, but he just plowed out. "And you were closer with boys than girls because you were interested in science, which wasn't cool… so you never have someone your own age to teach you to dress… and you were very focused during uni, so you never learned there… so I have anything wrong?"

"No," Molly said, hanging her head a bit. She felt defeated somehow. Was she that obvious? It was one thing for Sherlock to read her like a book. It was a whole other thing for _Sebastian_ to do it.

"Don't look down," Sebastian said, reaching up with his very rough fingers and tilting her head up. He leaned in and kissed her. "You're very pretty, and from that black dress you wore for me for out last date I know that you do have a figure, no matter how you hide it. I know… a few things. I can't buy you a whole wardrobe, but I might be able to brow beat you into a few things."

"How do you know this stuff?"

"Ehh… I uh… well… do you want the answer that's true, or the one that will make you feel better?" he asked, looking honestly uncomfortable.

"The truth," Molly said.

"My past girlfriends were prostitutes," he said.

"What?" she asked, too stunned to even think.

Sebastian winced. "Well, not all of them… but yeah a good number… and model on in the states… and ad few actresses… I listened when they talked and I learned some stuff."

"You're either lying or being just… just mean," Molly said, suddenly standing up. She crossed her arms over her chest, a natural defense against comments, especially from men like Sherlock.

"What? Why?" Sebastian asked, not sure how the conversation had taken this turn.

"There's no way… no way a man who's done all you've done and been around the world as many times as you have, and dated all the women you claim to have dated could be interested in someone like me," Molly said. "So you're either lying to try and get me into bed, or you're just stringing me along, because stuff like this doesn't happen in real life."

Sebastian looked honestly lost for words. He just stared at her for the longest time until she felt really uncomfortable. Finally he rested his face in his hands for a moment. "Oh Molly Hooper, you'll be the death of me, I'm sure," he said before scrubbing his hands over his face and looked up at her. "Do you really think I'm lying… in your gut, is that what you think?"

"No," she said, glaring at him because t was easier than crying.

"That… that right there is why I find you so interesting," he said. "You have some of the best instincts about people I've ever seen. I'll bet that's why you prefer the dead, because it's uncomfortable to be able to see under what people are hiding," he told her.

"No… that's insane," she said softly. "I'm terrible at judging people."

"No, you aren't. You're brilliant at it. You have been in love with Sherlock Holmes for a long time because you could always see what not everyone else could, that he was a very special, very rare type of man… very rare, near one of a kind even. You see under people's lies and presentations of their selves to what they are."

"You're just trying to make me feel better," she said.

"No, it's true… tell me for real… what did you think of your last boyfriend when you first met him?" he asked.

Molly paused and thought, thought about Jim from IT, a man who'd turned out to be a murderer, bomber, thief, madman. She thought about everything she knew about him, and how that colored how she saw that time. Then she thought about the first time she'd met him… and how she felt about him at that moment. "He was… he didn't fit. He seemed so… just adorable, but it was wrong. He was too perfect. Under all that I thought he was dangerous… hiding something… I thought he was interesting," he said.

"And you were right," Sebastian said.

"How would you know that?"

"I've worked as a guard for very powerful man. You think I can't ask around enough to find out you dated James Moriarty?" he asked. Molly winced a bit. The only time she heard him referred to like that was from the trial. Otherwise he was always Jim.

"Then why are you still here?" she asked.

"You picked two of the more interesting men alive to be attracted to… and actually got close to them. I find that very interesting," he said. "You undercut yourself. Both of them saw something in you."

"I never dated Sherlock."

"But weren't you the one who he always came to when he needed something medical?"

"How much did you ask about me?" Molly asked, feeling like her privacy had been very violated.

"A lot," Sebastian said. "I'm sorry, but I really needed to know if you were worth my time."

"And?" She asked.

"I'm here aren't I?" he asked. He reached out, taking her hands in his. He kissed the tops of both before flipping then over. He kissed her pulse on each wrist before kissing each palm. Then he just held her hands and gazed up into her eyes. He was so good about eye contact. It seemed like he was always looking right into her. "Aren't I?" he asked again, and she realized that she was actually supposed to answer.

"Yes," she said softly.

"Molly… I'm a very warped man. I am screwed up. I am twisted. I will admit that openly and freely… but I never plan to hurt you. You get me a key and I won't have to break in… but I did it because testing the system is the very best way to be sure if the security works. Clearly it doesn't work very well here."

"It's worked fine before."

"Because no one cared… but I care and I want to be sure that the only people coming into your home or people you want here… whether that includes me or not."

"What… so you'll just pay for all these padlocks and security and then leave?" Molly asked.

"If you want me to," Sebastian said. He smiled up at her and she felt her heart flutter a bit. "So… what will it be?"

"What will what be?"

"Tonight… can I make you dinner, maybe watching a movie? You told me you liked Hollywood romances, and I went and found a few I liked… well comedies. I'm sorry, if I have to put up with a love story, it's not going to be some melodrama staring Rock Hudson," he said, rolling his eyes. Molly giggled a bit.

"Are you only asking about tonight?"

"What, you think I'm going to ask you for a commitment when I've only known you for two weeks? That's crazy!" He said, laughing a bit. She laughed too, though only a bit.

" No… you just… you sounded like you wanted to ask something more."

Sebastian sighed and stood up. He was taller than her by head and shoulders. Still, he dragged her into his arms and she felt like she fit perfectly. "You were in some form of relationship with two of the rarest type of man to exist in the world… are you sure I'm going to be good enough to keep your interest?" he asked.

Molly started to laugh. She laughed and laughed until tears came to her eyes and she laughed more to cover up her crying, though his white shirt was stained with her tears anyway. It was just so ridiculous. "You make me sound like a gold digger," she said, pressing her eyes into his shirt once her tears and slowed.

"I just need to know if I'm going to be interesting enough for you."

"Breaking and entering aside… this is the healthiest relationship I've ever had," she said, sniffling.

"Ouch," Sebastian said sympathetically.

"Pathetic or what?"

"I think I can do better… the best relationship I've had before now permanently scared me before she broke up with me… and she's the reason why I had to leave the army."

"What?" Molly asked.

Sebastian pulled back a bit, pulling down the collar of his shirt so she could see the full extent of the damage to his right collar bone. He found her gasp gratifying. "I'll tell you the real story someday… but not today. I don't know you that well yet," he said.

"Okay," Molly said. "One more question, what are you making?" she asked.

"Something simple," he said. "Fettuccini alfredo," he said. "What?" He asked when he saw her wince.

"Trying to lose weight," she mumbled.

"Oh whatever," he said, his hand traveling down to her buttocks, gripping hard. "I like a girl whose thighs can touch together," he said, leaning down and kissing her. It was a warm kiss. He'd given her so few, but she always wanted more. She was an adult woman who'd mostly had terrible relationships… but that didn't mean that she hadn't had sex. She kept wondering when they'd get to that. In her experience it was better if she did it herself, since she'd never get a man who cared enough about her to worry about what she wanted… but it didn't mean she wasn't curious. Sebastian was just in amazingly good shape, and he'd dated prostitutes and models and actresses. How could she hope to compete with that?

"I don't know," she murmured.

"Molly can you just… just for me, can you just take my word about you for a while? Sherlock Holmes clearly abused you out of seeing yourself. No, you're never going to be a classic beauty, but I find you very attractive. You've got very kissable lips, and wide and perceptive eyes, sweet cheeks… all four of them." He grinned when she blushed. "When you start dressing your age I'll be able to really see and appreciate your figure. You're smart… you can put up with dead people all day when I honestly can't. Not many people I can think of as braver than me," Sebastian said.

"Are you just saying that?" She asked.

"Your negativity about yourself…. It actually really pisses me off. It's a huge turn off, and it's insulting to me. I think very highly of you and that you not only don't think highly of yourself but disregard me when I tell you what's so good about you is incredibly insulting. You're telling me that you don't trust me, that my opinions don't matter, that you'd rather feel bad about yourself than be happy. I don't like that attitude Molly, I just don't," he said.

Molly was very taken aback. No one had ever explained it to her like that before. At first she blushed and looked down, feeling more than a bit beaten… until she really thought and realized that wasn't what he wanted from her at all. She raised her head, squared her shoulders and looked him right in the eyes. It was hard. She was used to not making eye contact for so long. It was difficult to maintain, and she kept looking away, but she tried.

Sebastian smiled. He closed his eyes and leaned in and kissed her. "Just try for me will you? Try and like yourself a bit more. You really are worth it."

"I've never had someone tell me that before."

"Then your past lovers were idiots or just using you. Let them go," Sebastian said.

"Okay," Molly said, taking a step back. "Come on, I'm still really angry at you for breaking in. You can't do that ever again. If you do then I will break up with you," she said.

"Okay, fair," Sebastian said.

"But… I'll think about giving you a key to my apartment once you get the locks changed."

"Good," Sebastian said. "Here, I got one for you too."

"One what?" She asked, watching him dig around his in his pocket before he produced a shiny new silver key.

"This. It's my spare," he said. "Feel free to come poke around… but not too much. I'm kind of a gun nut. Nothing's every loaded, but I'd prefer it if you don't end up hurting yourself."

"I'd prefer that as well," Molly said, looking down at the key with a stunned expression. Sebastian Moran really just wasn't normal. "I don't… have your address," she said. "I know you told me where it was, but I forgot."

"I programmed it into your phone, along with my email address."

"When?"

"Last date when you slipped off to the loo," he said. He shrugged. "I knew you'd forget otherwise."

"Sebastian… you can't keep breaking into my things!" Molly snapped, getting really angry now. Was this how John felt when Sherlock used his stuff? No, best not to think of John. If she thought about him too much she'd start to feel too guilty. Sherlock made her promise not to say anything. He needed to dispose of some snipers who'd threatened Lestrade and John and Mrs. Hudson.

"Then next time put the information in there yourself when I'm telling it to you," he said.

"You're this close to a stalker."

"Well… that's what I do for a living. I'm sorry, but this is normal for me," he said.

"I don't want to fight," Molly said. "Can we just have dinner and watch your movies?" she asked.

"Yeah," Sebastian said, a bit taken aback by her sudden change of track.

"I'm still mad at you."

"Okay."

"What did you bring?"

" _SomeLike it Hot_ and _Philadelphia Story_."

"Good ones then," Molly said with a smile.

"Only the best for my Molly," Sebastian said, slipping his arm around her and pulling her into a one armed hug. "I'm going to go start dinner… you can change into something more comfortable," he told her as he headed out.

Molly sighed, looking down at Toby who looked indignant at her for being ignored so long after she'd dropped him. She sighed and scooped him up, petting him to try and make up for it. "Can you believe that Toby?" she asked quietly. Toby still looked indignant.

She could hardly believe the last fifteen minutes. She went to her closet and drawers, trying to find something that was more… fitted… She only had a ratty old tee-shirt and a pair of jeans she rarely wore. She felt wrong in them… like she was pretending to be a teen girl again. But it was more comfortable… and maybe he'd like it? Well, she'd find out anyway.

She hesitated to go out though. Not that evening, but soon she'd need to think about if she really wanted to date a man who broke into her flat and didn't see anything wrong with it… if she wanted to date a man because Jim Moriarty had dated her. Sebastian admitted to be a twisted man. Did she really want that?

Yes.

She wished she could just be normal… but she found that feeling of danger very appealing. She also knew he was lying to her about a lot of his life. She guessed that he was a spy… hopefully retired. She hoped he'd stick around more… but she liked the romantic notion that he was beefing up security around her because he wanted to protect her from his enemies.

She almost giggled at herself for that idea. Really? Was this what she was really reduced to? Girlhood fantasies of the dark hero? She'd always liked the dark hero the best… and Sebastian just fit that so well. She was honestly interested in him, and she did trust him, though she knew how foolish that was. Especially because he _broke into her flat._

He spoke to her about Jim Moriarty with such… a strength of knowledge. It disturbed her a bit, but she didn't push at that. It would be so easy to push at that… but Sebastian had just told her that her instincts about people were good. He'd used Moriarty as an example… so what did she think about him? That he was interesting, that he was hiding something, that he was dangerous… and that she trusted him. She didn't just want to throw this away because it was a bit dangerous. That just made it better.

Molly smiled and went out to find Sebastian in her kitchen. The look on his face when he saw her made her blush and made her want to dress like how he wanted her to dress. The dinner he made was delicious, doubly so because she's barely eaten at all due to her new diet. They'd watched movies and laughed and cuddled up together on the sofa until they both slipped off to sleep. The only thing she wondered about late into the night was when he'd broach the subject of sex, or if he'd embarrass her into doing it. She didn't even worry about that too much. She just let herself enjoy her evening and put tomorrow off until tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a month and a half since Molly first met Sebastian Moran and two months since Sherlock Holmes supposedly died. Molly couldn't have been happier. Sebastian, when he wasn't focusing on cleaning his weapons (she'd walked in on him cleaning his sniper rifle, which was terribly impressive, but she decided to neither think nor ask about), was possibly the most adorable man Molly had ever met. He worried about her safety easily. He fussed over the way she dressed. Most of all he seemed torn between a deep seeded need to possess her, and a desperate want to not frighten her or suffocate her. He'd alternate between being like a stalker to being apologetic and trying to put distance between them.

Molly still couldn't help but wonder what he really liked about her, but she was not sure he really liked her. He kept coming back to her. After he had the locks, the door, the hinges, the whole door frame and windows replaced, and had the walls by the door strengthened she'd deciding it was probably just a good idea to go ahead and give him a key to her flat. He'd been stunned and pleased. She liked it when she could surprise him.

She's really surprised him a week ago when she'd invited him over for dinner and ended up crawling on top of him wearing nothing but her skin and a blush. She'd told him that he'd need to instruct her, because she wasn't very confident about what she was doing. He looked like he'd died and gone to heaven.

She'd done it for two reasons. The first was that she realized he really wouldn't if she didn't take initiative and put him in a position where he couldn't worm out of it. He'd somehow got it in his head that she was too innocent and that he didn't want to ruin her. She'd knocked that idea right out of his head. He seemed much happier for it too. The second reason was because of him taking her out shopping.

It should have been embarrassing for him to take her out like that, but it had been very pleasant. He never talked down to her, but he goaded her like crazy until she picked clothes that were two or three sizes smaller than what she normally wore. They walked out with three outfits that properly fit her body. Her favorite was the pink sundress and little white jumper he's bought her. She'd liked it so much that she'd worn it for their date later that evening. It was cute, shorter than what she normally wore, clung to her body more.

It was amazing how clothes could make a person feel. In her new clothes she'd felt so much more attractive. Because Sebastian had been careful to instruct her about fashion (she was still boggling from how much he actually knew. But then, his memory was incredible) she was able to go back and confidently (more confidently each trip as she got more and more successes) pick outfits that actually fit her. For once she honestly felt sexy and more sure of her body.

It helped that Sebastian couldn't seem to keep his hands off her even more now.

That thought alone kept her grinning as she worked during the day. Thoughts about Sebastian were easily distracting, especially while her hands wrote reports she could write in her sleep. She'd rather stupidly stopped paying attention.

"Molly?"

She jumped. "Christ! John," she said, grabbing her heart (she seemed to do that a lot more recently, what with Sebastian sleeping in her bed, and his hair pin trigger type of sleep that would have him jumping awake and brandishing a pistol at the slightest movement from her.)

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," John said, setting down the very expensive microscope he'd been holding.

"What are you doing here, where did you get that?" she asked, realizing it was the microscope she'd been looking for.

"Sherlock apparently nicked it. Mrs. Hudson asked me to drop it off," John said.

"Oh… I'm sorry," she said. She suddenly felt guilty. She was so happy with Sebastian and not really sad because she knew Sherlock was alive and just out hunting snipers. He'd come back at some point… but John still didn't know, and Sherlock had demanded that she not tell anyone, especially not the three people Moriarty had threatened.

"What? As long as I don't look up when I come into the building I'm okay," John said. "I'm actually working in trauma right now," he said.

"What? Really?" Molly asked.

"Sherlock always avoided the upper levels. Too many people," John said. He looked too thin. It cost him to say his friend's name. John was strong, though. He'd survive, he'd always survive and that meant that he was already starting to try and put himself back together.

"That sounds like him," Molly said. "Thank you for bringing this back. We have inventory in a few weeks. I'd have been paying for it if we couldn't find it."

"They'd make you pay for it?"

"They'd take it out of all of our salaries, but the others would suspect it was me that lost it," Molly said.

"Do you lose things often?"

"No, but they seem to think I'm clumsy and scatter brained, and I'm always here," she said.

"I can't imagine you as either of those things," John said honestly and Molly smiled. She was shy and awkward, but also very competent and controlled. She'd never drop or misplace lab equipment, especially if it was very expensive.

"Thank you," Molly said, smiling at him. He was so different from Sebastian. Sebastian seemed scary until she'd gotten to know him more. He was sweet under everything else. John seemed sweet, but she knew he was one of the most dangerous men she'd ever met.

"You're dressing differently," John said.

"You should like Sherlock," Molly said, wincing a bit. It came out because he was suddenly making her nervous.

"I learn some things, but I'm not that good… no, you just look really nice… and these fit you a lot better," he said.

"You're just trying to get away with staring at my arse," Molly joked, making John chuckle.

"No, but you're dressing really different… how come?"

Molly sighed heavily. He'd find out eventually anyway, right? "I got a new boyfriend," she said. "He happens to know about these things."

John paused, looking a bit torn. She bet her wasn't sure whether to be angry at her for being happy so soon or just being happy for her. "You sure this one isn't gay?" he asked, trying to be gentle.

Molly burst into laughter. She could hug John, she really could. Leave him to ask the one thing she hadn't expected it. "I thought so at first. I met him when he was looking for a dead friend of his. The way he talks about James sometimes makes me jealous… but James was his closest friend for 14 years. I imagine when I've known him that long that he'll talk about me the same," she said with a smile, blushing when she realized what she'd said.

"James?" John asked. "When did you meet him?"

"Um… about a month and a half ago," she admitted guiltily.

"And he was looking for a man named James?" John asked.

"Oh, John, don't! Why would Jim had sent anyone to me again? I'm not that interesting," Molly said. "Besides… Sebastian isn't like that. James died a while ago. Not that we know where the body is, but Sebastian had to go get things from James' flat recently. He's storing some of it at my place while he figures out what to do with it all."

John relaxed some. "Okay, I'm sorry…" he said before trailing off. "Are you really sure?"

"Yes!" Molly snapped. "Would you like to meet him? You can see for yourself."

"I don't think that's necessary."

"No," Molly said, suddenly getting an idea. "No, you should meet him."

"It's really not necessary."

"No, John, he was a soldier too, and he doesn't really know anyone else in the city… please, will you meet him for me?" she asked.

"Are you trying to set me up on a date with your boyfriend?" John asked, quirking a brow.

"No, but he's in between work right now and bored… come on, when's the last time you did anything outside of work or home?" she asked. Brilliant, she could get John out away from his memories too. "Please, just meet him for me?"

"Okay, fine," John said. "When is this?"

"This evening, at the pub." He'd know the one, the one that the whole hospital went to after work. "At seven."

"Okay, I'll be there," John said.

"Great, thank you," she said.

* * *

"Sebastian, I'm home!" Molly called when she came in. Like he wouldn't have known from how loud the tumbler lock was. She called just because it seemed more polite. She could basically be sure that he was in her home. He'd go to his own home to sleep sometimes, and get clothes, but he spent more time in her flat than his now.

"In the kitchen," Sebastian called.

Molly set down her bags and took of her jacket, hanging it up. She took off her shoes and went into the kitchen. "What are you doing?" Molly asked.

"Making popsicles," Sebastian said.

"Where did you find those?" Molly asked, not having seen popsicle makers in well… years.

"James had them… like a ton of them. I can't even imagine what to do with them all, so I decided to use them. I used up the space in my freezer with the boring kind and few experiments. I'm working on fruit salad pops now," He said. She could see the concoction he was pouring into the popsicle maker had a large amount of mashed up fruit un it.

"What else did you make?"

"Frozen yogurt parfait pops… and milk and cookie pops, and frozen pea pops," he said.

"A popsicle of frozen vegetables?" Molly asked, laughing already. "Why would you ever do that?"

"I only made two. Even I'm not that crazy. I just wanted to do something weird that James would have," he said.

"Do you think you succeeded?"

"I gave up and decided to make things I'd actually eat," Sebastian said, finishing his pouring and putting the little popsicle ends in place before putting it in her freezer, which really was full of popsicle makers.

Molly smiled and moved behind him, slipping her arms around his waist. "You're finally going through his things."

"You have no idea how much stuff he has. I found receipts for like twenty different storage units… I haven't begun to scratch the surface," Sebastian said with a heavy sigh. "And you should be glad that I used only the normal popsicle makers here.

"Normal? As opposed to what?"

"The penis shaped ones… or the ones shaped like breasts… or the rocket shaped ones… though I must admit I'm a bit excited about those," he said.

Molly laughed, burying her face in his back. "You're so cute sometimes I can't stand it."

She could almost hear Sebastian frown. "Men aren't supposed to be cute," he pouted. Molly laughed, knowing he'd have his lower lip out. He did that to make her laugh and it always worked.

"How did I get so lucky?" She asked.

Sebastian spun her around so he could hold her too. "Are you going to make me be sappy and as the same thing?" he asked, leaning in and kissing her cheek.

"No," she said, smiling up at him. She was sure she must have looked like a love struck school girl. She didn't care. Sebastian made her happy. That was the end of everything else. "Did you plan out dinner yet?"

"You demanding little thing. I've been making popsicles all day. I haven't had time to cook you anything," Sebastian said, looking grumpy.

"No, no, we're going out to eat at the pub this evening," she told him. "I want you to meet one of my friends," she said.

"Really? You never want me to meet anyone."

"Because I normally don't think of anyone for you to meet," she said. "But John's a dear friend. I want you to meet him."

"John… as in John Watson?" Sebastian asked. "Really?" he asked.

"Yes, really. You're both ex-military. He could use a distraction, and God knows you could."

"I'm fine," Sebastian grumped.

"You spend all day making popsicles because you're out of work."

"I have plenty of money."

"You're bored. In fact you like two days of nothing to do away from being Sherlock bored and coming to bug me in the lab to borrow a severed head."

"… I can assure you that I will never be that bored," Sebastian said. Molly wasn't sure if it was more his discomfort over morgues or just shock that Sherlock would ask for such a thing (or that she'd give it to him) that made him seem so momentarily off.

"Or shoot holes in your wall."

"That would be highly irresponsible… wait, Holmes shot holes in his wall?"

"With John's gun. John complained about it a bit, so did Mrs. Hudson," Molly said.

"Molly…. I don't like Sherlock Holmes, you remember that, right? And you want to set me up on a play date with his best friend?"

"And this is why you're going to not talk about Sherlock at all. You're good at that," she said.

"I'm good at a lot of things," he said in a husky tone she'd learned he only used when he wanted sex.

She moved up on her tip toes and caught his lips in a very innocent kiss. "I know… but please do this for me. John's trying to move on… and all his old friends are related to Sherlock, even me. All the people he's close to were either people Sherlock also knew or people he knew because of Sherlock… you'll be a clean slate for him… please," she said.

Sebastian looked momentarily stunned, and she couldn't figure out why. Finally Sebastian sighed. "Fine okay," he said. "Just one question. Does it embarrass you that I'm out of work currently?"

"No, it doesn't. You were able to afford nice clothes for me and to have the security in my home increased greatly. If you're between jobs it's because you haven't found something that interests you enough. I just hate how bored you seem."

"Boredom kills people," Sebastian said gravely, and Molly got the feeling that they were talking about James. She dragged him down into another kiss.

"I know."

"Molly… if I get a really good job I might not be able to see you as much. I might just be traveling around for a while… a long while. I've kept up my flat, but I've got an LA residence and one in France, a flat in Russia, two actually, and a couple of places I stay when I'm in Africa," he said.

"That's… that's a lot of places," Molly said.

"Yeah, I was thinking of selling a few, just living in London for a while… I'm just not sure how often I'll be in town if I found the type of work I really like," he admitted.

"You haven't known me for that long."

"Long enough to know that I don't want to always be running off like I normally do," he told her.

"I'll wait," she said.

Sebastian smile. "You're the very best, Molly. Now go change," he said, sending her off to put on clothes for the evening.

* * *

Moran was not sure how much he liked the idea of his girlfriend trying to make him be friends with a man he'd once planned to kill. He also wanted to laugh at the irony of her trying to introduce John Watson to a new friend who had nothing to do with Sherlock Holmes. What would John Watson say if he knew that his 'new friend' would be a man who was the reason Sherlock Holmes died in the first place.

But he would never know. Sebastian would make sure of that. Molly would never keep him around if she knew, and John would tell her if he found out. Molly was too important to him. He was convinced that she was James Moriarty's last gift to him. He even had the time to court her. He was bored, but he was also hesitant to run off and do whatever that would keep them separated. He had no delusions that he could go straight. He was a sniper, a man made to kill. He liked it. He'd never be happy doing anything else. He didn't plan to change that part of him.

He thought Molly knew or suspected that he wasn't good like he pretended to be. She either refused to see or wouldn't let herself care. It didn't matter which. If she actually knew for certain who he was, then she'd have to leave him. She was too much of a good girl to allow herself to get caught up with a man she knew was bad.

He set those thoughts aside as she came back with the drinks, and John Watson. She'd made him stay in the booth while she got the doctor. This place was crawling with medical staff, all off for the day and looking for something to get them through until the next day. John Watson wasn't one of those people. Molly was, but it wasn't alcohol or food she needed. It was him. Despite his instance to stay cold hearted and distant from his past girlfriends, he found that a warmth had leaked in.

"Dr. Watson," Sebastian said, offering his hand across the table, which the good doctor shook. A firm grip. Molly pressed herself against his side and he slipped his arm around her waist, his index finger tapping in rhythm.

"John, this is Sebastian Moran… My… my boyfriend," she said. She blushed but grinned brilliantly. Moran found himself just looking at her, just smiling as at her in the afterglow of her smile.

"Sebastian then?" John asked, assessing him, trying to figure out just how big a threat he was to Molly.

"Just Seb's fine," Moran said, taking a chip off Molly's plate. "I keep telling Molly she can call me Seb, but she doesn't listen."

"It's too formal," Molly said.

"You're adorable," Moran said, leaning over and kissing her cheek.

She blushed, but her phone started going off. "Oh, I'm sorry." She pulled out her phone and frowned. "Hello?" She answered. "Yes… yes it is… no, no I put it back. No… no I know about inventory. No, it should be in its proper place!" she said, her voice getting a bit loud. "No, I'll do it," she said hanging up.

"What's wrong?" John asked.

"Someone misplaced the microscope you brought back, and they're trying to blame me for it," Molly said. She looked between the two of them "I'm sorry, but I've got to go in right now," she said softly. She stood up taking her coat and pulling it on. "I'll be back later."

"You planned this, didn't you?" Moran asked, his eyes narrowed.

"No, Sebastian… I wish I did," Molly said, looking a bit hurt. Sebastian reached out, taking her hand a kissed the back.

"Hurry back. I'll be here waiting," he said.

"Thank you," Molly said in an almost not there voice before she left.

"So…" Moran said, looking over at John Watson. He was the good sort, the kind the British wanted in their military. Heroic, bendable, a strong old oak tree. Out of the army because he'd been injured… not because he had something mentally wrong with him.

"So," John said, taking a sip of his beer. "I'd spent most of the day wondering if you're actually Molly's boyfriend, or if she was trying to set me up on a date."

Moran laughed. "I was asking myself the same question," he said, making John smile just the tiniest bit. John didn't trust him. He was a smart man after all. "How did she get you here?"

"A personal favor, said you didn't have any friends around here and could use a night out."

"A personal favor," Moran said, holding up his glass as if to toast. "Told me you could use a night out to be with someone who didn't remind you of Sherlock Holmes. Don't worry, I'm not one of those types, the none believers."

"But you're not one of the believers either," John said.

"The one topic Molly told me was off topic and it's the first thing we jump on… no. I didn't like him. I don't. My… well, James was a very devoted follower, but he wasn't as stable as he could be… he's gone now and it's because of Sherlock Holmes… and so yes, I am angry," Sebastian said.

"It's fine," John said. He smacked his lips after taking a deep gulp of beer. "He made everyone angry."

"You're still angry."

"Of course. The bloody idiot killed himself. How can I not be angry? We could have fought it. We could have cleared up his name… but he took the coward's way out… and he lied to me… and I don't understand," he said, trailing off.

"And James is the bloody idiot who followed after him. To crazy friends," Moran said, holding up his glad. John snorted and clinked his glass against Moran's.

"Can't live without them."

"Not like we used to no… but then I guess it's just ordinary skies from now on."

"Oh, dull."

"Completely," Moran said. Silence stretched between them for a minute and they both just ate, trying to distract themselves from their memories.

"So…" John finally said. "Molly… when did she learn to manipulate people?"

Sebastian groaned. "It's all my fault. She got both of us… I don't even know if I should be proud… or terrified how fast she picked it up."

"You like to manipulate people?"

"James taught me… it proved useful sometimes… though I could never get him to do anything I wanted him to do. He got me to do everything he wanted to do."

"Drove you crazy?"

"Always," Moran said. "What about you?"

"Always, though I could sometimes get him to do things… normally it was just eating."

"Lucky you," Moran said. "Can we pick a different topic?"

"How about your intentions?"

"With Molly? You think I'm going to tell you when I haven't told her yet?" Moran asked, taking a bite of his fish.

"If you plan to hurt her-"

"I don't," Moran said. "I'm not using her or whatever you think is going on. She actually makes me happy. Do you doubt that?"

"No, not with how you look at her."

"You observe."

"When I remember to," John said.

"But that isn't what you want to talk about," Moran said. He could practically see it.

"You lost a friend named James because of Sherlock?" John asked.

"You think I'm lying?"

"No, but I don't think you're telling the truth."

"I know what you're accusing me of," Moran said.

"Moriarty's been missing since Sherlock… fell."

"Let me ask you a question. Do you really want to pursue this? Do you want to see this paranoid? Do you want to actually think that James Moriarty sent a man to date a woman he'd dated before… for God only knows what reason or plan?" Moran asked.

"No, I don't want to think that."

"Then don't worry about," Moran said.

"You're not really a good person," John said.

"You can see that too? You are good. From what James read off, you did seem rather perceptive. No, I'm not a good person. I was thrown out of the military and for good reason. I work for people because they pay well, not because they're good people. Right now I have enough money that even if I dip into the principle now and then I don't want to worry about where my next meal's coming from for the rest of my life."

"Molly said you wanted to go back to work."

"I do… you're back to work. It's easier to move on if you've got things to do. It's also easier not to be bored if you've got work. I'm bored, Dr. Watson. I spent today making popsicle because I inherited about a hundred popsicle makers from James. I'm bored and I don't plan to be Molly's house wife."

"House wife," John said, stopping to listen to the words that Moran hadn't said. "You plan to marry her?"

"Yes, one day… when she's ready."

"You've talked to her about it?"

"Right now she still thinks I'm going to head out the door any day. When she starts figuring out I'm sticking around, then I'll ask. Before that it's just a cruel joke to both of us," Moran said a bit bitterly. "Another reason I don't like your friend. You realize how he tore her down? She can't see her lips or chest in the mirror without his words cutting into her."

"How do you know?"

"I met Mrs. Hudson, she told me," Moran said.

"Does Molly know?"

"That I met Mrs. Hudson? Yes," Moran said with a shrug. "Look, the more information you have the better plan of action you can make. The more information I have about Molly, the better I can be for her. She… knows that I'm like. I do things that aren't normal, and I tell her… and I don't know why she hasn't thrown me out yet, but she hasn't."

"Sounds like you're a bit hard on yourself too," John said.

"No, I'm realistic… I'm not a good man. She either doesn't see it, or refuses to let herself see it. I'm never going to get her hurt, though."

"I believe you," John said. "You used to be a sniper, right?"

"Yes, but so did you," Moran said.

"You do your research."

"Some men can look at a man and tell him his whole life stories. I'm not one of them. I can make good connections, but only if I have information. I try to remember everything important."

"You sound a bit like them," John said.

"Who?"

"Sherlock… and Moriarty."

"Well, so do you," Moran said, finishing off his beer.

"There were a bunch of killers in town when Sherlock died… Moriarty sent them," John said.

"Yes," Moran said. "You can ask me."

"No, I don't think I will," John said.

"Why not?" Moran asked, confused as to why he wasn't going to get the information he really should be trying to get.

"Because… no matter what did or did not happen… Sherlock jumped himself… and when you look at Molly there's no way anyone could think you'd ever allow harm to come to her. I hate Moriarty because he pushed Sherlock into what happened… I'm certain… but Sherlock did it himself," John said.

Moran let out a heavy sigh. "Thank you, Dr. Watson."

"You're welcome, Moran."

"Seb's fine."

"Is that what James called you."

"Yes."

"You miss it."

"Badly."

"Okay then, Seb," John said, smiled when Moran smiled.

"I'm back," Molly said, bustling over. "It was where I said it was. Some people just can't look straight," she said, slipping out of her coat and sitting down next to Moran. "Did I miss anything."

"Just talking about you," Moran said, slipping his around her.

"That didn't take long. I don't think the food got cold," Molly said.

"If it did, I'll just make you something when we get home," Moran said, placing a kiss on her earlobe, making her smile and blush.

"I'm so glad you could come tonight," Molly told John,

"Yes, me too," John said, finishing off his own beer.


	4. Chapter 4

Sebastian Moran had known the hypocrisy of time since he was young, Minutes could drag on into eons, and days could melt into seconds. Snipers needed to be very patient. They could be in position days ahead of time, unable to leave, get much food or water, or even leave position to piss. It was simply about waiting and being alert during the wait. It wasn't easy, it was never easy, but Moran could be the most patient man in the world when he needed to be. It was part of why James Moriarty had always found him so useful. Moriarty could very patient when he wanted to be, but sometimes he didn't want to be and Moran needed to remind him of why he needed to be patient.

It had been a good working relationship, but it was gone now.

* * *

"I see him sometimes," John said.

"Like what, in your dreams?" Moran asked, smiling over the large lager he'd ordered.

"No, on the street. I'll see him there, in people's faces or the way they stand or walk. Sometimes it looks so much like him I'm sure I've lost my mind. Do you ever do that?"

"No," Moran admitted, feeling jealous. "I'm not sure if it would be hellish or not though."

"It is hellish. I feel like I've lost my mind."

"Yeah, but you still see him! I swear I'd give just about anything to see James one more time." When had it become so comfortable to refer to him like that? His boss would never have allowed it if he were alive, but if he did miraculously come back, Moran wondered if he'd be able to call him anything else. Sometimes he was sure his own stories were convincing him that they had been friends. It was a preposterous idea. Moriarty didn't have friends. Moran might have been his pet… at best, but that didn't mean that Moriarty wouldn't have locked him in an oven to watch him burn just because he was bored.

"He's still be dead anyway," John pointed out before taking a swig of beer.

"Oh, you have no idea. You, maybe if you saw him, you'd have been able to talk him out of it. Not old James. James never did anything he didn't want to do, even if I asked, even if I begged he still went and did it anyway," Moran said, sullen.

"Nah, I doubt it. I rarely could even make him eat after five days of living on air because he was too busy solving cases."

Moran chuckled darkly and raised his glass. "To those two idiots."

"Those two idiots," John said with a pained but rousing laugh. He clinked his glass against Moran's and they both took long, hard gulps, emptying their respective glasses. "More."

"Oh, God yes!" Moran said, scrubbing his hands over his mouth and chin. His eyes followed John as he got up to get them both refills, then he sat back in his seat and sighed.

Another two months had passed since Jim and Sherlock's death. Moran's life had moved into a pattern. He would wake up, dress, eat breakfast and got to his first activity of the day (either going for a jog, or jogging home after spending the night at Molly's). A shower followed, and then he'd disassemble and clean his weapons before putting them back together and back in their places. He'd search for some kind of job listing (sometimes the legitimate sources, sometimes not), and then go through some of the things he'd inherited from James Moriarty.

The number one thing Moran knew about James Moriarty now that he was dead more than he'd known before Moriarty died was that Jim was an impulse buyer… a terrible impulse buyer. He'd found a mountain of stuffed animals, about twenty over large bouncy balls, enough pool toys to fill five swimming pools, enough hair product to style every dog in the British isles… and that wasn't even touching the erotic stuff.

Moran half thought that Moriarty had bought the stuff with Molly in mind. He'd been miserably embarrassed when Molly (also going through the boxes of Moriarty's things that Moran had left at her flat) found a box that held what Moran thought was a "Build-your-own-pirate-ship" kit. It turned out to be a home stripper pole.

Sebastian Moran had never been so glad that Molly had a great sense of humor, although he should have known that with how she gravitated to the penis popsicles. She'd even tried to dance for him using the pole. It was too adorable to be erotic, and he'd ended up wrapping Molly in one of his jumpers and falling asleep with her on the sofa after watching bad American teen soap operas.

"So," John said when he came back, pushing Moran's lager over to him. "You had a fight with Molly?"

"Yeah," Moran said dejectedly sipping his drink.

"Was it bad?"

"It wasn't good," Moran muttered.

"What happened."

"Molly's an only child."

"So?"

"So, it bothers her. She had her mother's sister who she visits and keeps up with. They invited her down for a weekend soon, but I'm signed up to work that weekend."

"Oh, you found work?"

"There's a threat to a painting. My old employer worked with the painting's owner. He hired me for guard duty that weekend."

"Doesn't sound too bad."

"Yes, which is why she was very reasonable about me not coming, especially since I told her I'd come with her another time if it was planned further ahead. My work comes up sporadically, and unless I have a date set early, I promise to be there."

"I haven't heard her complain about you missing a date."

"I practically live in her flat, and I cook for her every time I'm there. She's not going to complain. I plan most of the dates too," Moran said.

"Anyway."

"Anyway, so the problem is that Molly started asking about my family."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh," Moran said, rolling his eyes. At least John talked to his sister occasional.

"What did you tell her?"

"That my brother's a stock traders and very wealthy, and that he hates my living guts… oh and I have an aunt who's still alive, my dad's sister. She thinks that I'm a sin against God because while my father was just happy I was happy, she falls more in the homosexuals will burn in hell camp," he said.

John winced sympathetically. "Surely she'll be more… accommodating when she realizes that your dating a woman?"

Moran snorted. "Hell no. She'll brag about how she helped cure my perversion. Besides that she beat James with her cane when he came with me to my father's funeral, and damn near shot his crotch off."

"Bloody hell," John muttered.

"Doesn't help that I got my good aim from my aunt. She would have succeeded if I hadn't tackled her to the ground and emptied the pistol into a nearby tree. James never forgave me for that little experience either."

"I can imagine," John said, his face screwing up.

"It's not funny."

John burst into laughter, unable to help himself or about a minute. It lasted longer from holding it in. "I beg to differ. Your aunt freaked out because she believed you were gay when you weren't… how is that not funny?"

"The part where Molly really wants to meet her and my brother," Moran said darkly.

John just chuckled. "Look, if you meet them once, Molly will see how awful they are and not insist you go back."

"Oh, no, they'd love her. She's their perfect idea of the girl I should have married fourteen years ago… when my brother was offering me secretarial work? So no, they'll treat her perfectly. They'll just berate me constantly."

"Ah… well, it's just one of the things you suffer through for you girlfriend," John said, taking a sip of his beer.

"What about Mary, do you suffer for her?" he asked. John nearly spit out his beer, but ended up inhaling some instead. Moran had to beat John's back while he tried to cough the liquid out of his lungs.

"How do you know?" John rasped out.

"Water?"

"How did you know?" John demanded, his voice sounding croaky.

"Hold on," Moran said, going and getting water. He returned pretty quickly with a glass, which he dropped in John's hand and then sat back down, sipping his lager innocently.

John took a few long swigs of water, coughed once or twice more, drank a little more and then set the glass down. "Seb, how the hell do you know about Mary? She doesn't work in the hospital, and Molly doesn't even know yet."

"I'm a sniper," Moran said, grinning. He was enjoying this far too much.

"So was I," John said.

"Damn good one too I bet," Moran said, smiling innocently, or trying to. He was failing very badly at the innocent act.

"Don't change the subject."

"I do my research John," Moran said, leaning back in his seat. "I protect Molly. You think I don't protect you too?"

"You what?"

"You apartment's dreadfully easy to get into. I'm glad you sleep with you gun nearby, but honestly you need better locks."

"You've been stalking me too?" John demanded, insulted.

"Well… yeah," Moran said a bit sheepishly. "Look, this is what I do John. I figure out security threats. You and Molly are my security threats. If you both aren't secured then I'm compromised and I might have to do things I don't want to do."

"You consider me a security threat?" John asked. The words alone sounded insulting, but John Watson's tone carried the weight of a man who understood what the other actually meant.

"You're the first mate I've made since James came into my life. I can't call you my best friend." Moran shrugged.

"And I can't call you mine," John said.

"Which I understand… we are never going to be what the other needs completely. I'll never be as close to you as Sherlock was to you, or James was to me. That's a fact, but yes, you matter to me. If you were captured or hurt I would do anything I could to find you or avenge you. After Molly you rank second in my life."

"There really isn't a lot in your life, is there?" John asked.

Sebastian shook his head. "No, really not. It's been my job for a long time."

"You're doing local work now?"

"For a while anyway."

"Just don't get caught," John said, going back to what was left of his drink.

"I never do," Moran said. "Now tell me about this Mary."

"Now really, how do you know about her?"

"That letter she sent you, from her family's summer home? Come on, who even writes real letters anymore. Then I did a google search. The Morstan's are a very wealthy family. How did you even meet her?"

"She was one of Sherlock's fans," John said. "Well, mine too. She writes, can't get anything published but she admired me making so much off my blog. She said she liked my style."

"Stroked your ego a bit," Moran said. "Oof!" he groaned, leaning down to rub the spot on his leg that John had kicked.

"Anyway," John said in a way that sounded like he was saying 'fuck you'. "She e-mailed me a bit, back and forth and finally asked me to come out because her father wanted to meet me."

"So you already met your girlfriend's parents."

"He said that he'd met Moriarty before. "

"I'm not surprised," Moran said with a shrug. "So, you're dating her."

"Yes… for about a week now, officially. We did dance around it quite a bit," John admitted.

"Good," Moran said. And he meant it. He did honestly like John. John was the only person he could talk about the military and sniper training with. Mary didn't even know why he'd been drummed out of the service. He'd been just too violent, so much so that he disturbed his senior officers, who couldn't prove he'd done anything illegal, so they stuck him with something and tossed him out. John knew because Sebastian Moran told him. John didn't really care. It wasn't like Sherlock was always legal, anyway.

"What are you going to do about Molly?"

"I'm going to go schedule to meet my family the weekend after she gets back from her family," Moran said. "That should make up for it."

"You do fold easily."

"I know a losing battle when I see it," Moran said, pulling out his phone. He took a big gulp of his lager and dialed his brother's number. "Hello, August. It's Sebastian," Moran said, speaking very formally for speaking to his family. No. I'm not in trouble. No, I'm not in Egypt… or the Philippines or North Korea. No. No. _No_. No, will you just shut up? Listen, I'm in London."

John heard a loud and very deep ' _Really_ ' from the phone.

"Yes, look my girlfriend wants to meet you and aunt Ginny."

' _Your girlfriend?'_ could be heard very loudly from the earpiece.

"Yes, my girlfriend, Molly Hooper," Sebastian said. "Look, she wanted to meet you both. We'll be down to see you three weekends from now. That's enough time, got it? Good. Bye." He hung up. "Is it like this with your sister?"

"Sherlock was like that with his brother."

"Okay, fuck it, that's it, I'm going back to Molly." Moran grabbed his lager, tipping his head up so he'd get the rest of the drink and a lot of the foam from inside the glass. "Thanks for the night out, mate."

"Don't mention it," John said, smiling a bit as he slowly finished his own drink. He planned to go home and write Mary an e-mail. Or Skype. He was really discovering how wonderful Skype could be when it didn't involve Sherlock wrapped in a sheet.

* * *

Moran whistled as he left the pub and started to walk home. John and Moran had found a pub that was closer to Molly and John's flat than to the hospital. Moran's flat was on the other side of the city, but he was at Molly's so often it didn't matter. He even had started to leave some of his clothing his Molly's closet (which was rapidly changing over to much more fashionable clothes, like the lovely white dress he'd bought her for their three month anniversary a week before. He hoped it helped her start getting ideas.)

He paused to send a text to Molly. She'd at least be happier knowing he was coming home… yes, that was the right word. Molly was home, whether he was in his flat or hers. His was nicer, more modern… but Molly's had Molly in it. Molly made the place, not the nice refrigerator. She'd forgive him for the fight since he'd called his brother who he hadn't spoken to in five years just to set up a play date with him and his aunt… just so Molly didn't have to feel bad about him being alone. He didn't know how to tell her that some families would always be broken and she couldn't fix his. He hated what was left of his family. He'd loved his mother and father. His brother was an asshat-extraordinaire. His aunt was just… well, aunt Ginny. That was the best that could be said for her, and that wasn't even very much.

But he was going to see both of them for Molly. He hoped she'd appreciate it. She would only if he spelled it out for her… he just wasn't sure he wanted to. They would treat Molly great, but she'd never see that it was because they were just happy he liked women. They'd never look at her and see how amazing she was. They'd look at her and wonder if she was willing to take it up the arse and that was why he was dating her. They'd look at her and think she was plain (though she was gorgeous. It just took more than a passing glance to see how beautiful she was). They'd look at her and think that he deserved her.

That last one… that was what got to him the most. He didn't care what they thought about him, but he knew how little they thought of him. They'd think Molly was perfect for him… that image of a petty, thieving, useless sinner. That's who'd they think Molly was good for. Molly was better than that. But he didn't plan to explain it to her… because they'd never change, and Molly would just be hurt. He never wanted to hurt her if he could help it, especially when it wasn't necessary.

Moran glanced back at the pub and smiled a bit. John Watson was a good man. No one would ever know just how damn glad he was that Sherlock Holmes had jumped. Moran could barely stand the idea that James would have made him kill John… but he'd have done it… Moran would kill Molly if James told him too… James?

Moran laughed at himself. He hadn't expected to start thinking of his boss as James now too. It was ridiculous. Moriarty never would have let him get away with it. He was lucky he hadn't been killed when he called him Jim that one time… but he'd been desperate to stop James Moriarty from dying. It seemed like a sin to let such a rare type of man disappear from the world… but he was dead, just like Sherlock Holmes.

Sebastian Moran's head whipped around. Was John's little insanity wearing on him too? He could have sworn that he'd just seen Sherlock Holmes… that same mop of brown curls… not the same outfit, different, very different, and under a baseball cap, the same high cheek bones.

No, he'd never imagine seeing Sherlock like that. His eyes were great. If they weren't he'd never have been as invaluable to his employer as he had been. So he must have seen Sherlock Holmes alive. Alive? Sherlock Holmes couldn't be alive! He had to have been dead. Moran saw him jump off the roof. He sad him die. How could he still be alive?

Moran turned around, pushing through the crowd as headed back toward the pub. Sherlock Holmes had been heading that direction, back to the pub. Back to John.

"Seb, what are you doing here, I thought you were headed back to Molly."

"Yeah, yes," Moran said, looking around. No… Sherlock Holmes was gone. The bastard! "Yeah, I remembered I owed you money," he said, drawing out his wallet.

"You don't have to," John said.

"You need to save up to buy new locks… or just get your girlfriend to do it," Moran said, smirking easily. It was his default work face anyway.

John took the money and stuffed it in his pocket, glaring at his friend. "Just shut up."

"If you don't get new locks I'm going to write to her myself."

"Seb! You can't do that! I don't want her think I'm using her!"

"What does that matter? If she really loves you it won't matter, she'll stick by you anyway."

"When did you become a romantic?"

"Look I'm going to write up recommendations for increasing the security on your flat, and you will take these recommendations or I'm calling up your girlfriend and e-mailing the recommendations to her. Understood?"

"Oh Christ, fine, I'll look over your recommendations."

"No, you'll do them."

"Then they aren't recommendations."

"I was trying to be polite about it."

"You complete git!" John snapped, getting really hot angry, especially because Sebastian was smiling so broadly.

"You too," Moran said, clapping John on the shoulder. "Now go home and sleep. You have the early shift."

"Stop it. I don't need a stalker," John said.

"I'm stalking Molly. Not you."

"You should never admit anything like that out loud. Good night!" John snapped, walking off, muttering something under his breath about 'worse than Sherlock'.

Moran's smiled slid off his face the second John was around the corner. He waited for a moment before turning around and heading back toward Molly… So, Sherlock Holmes was still alive. That Bastard… No… Sebastian wasn't going to jump to conclusions. He wasn't just going to kill John just because he thought he saw Sherlock Holmes (was sure he saw him). He needed concrete proof…

He didn't have work for a while… it looked like he was going to need to stalk John for real… stalk John to stalk John's stalker: Sherlock Holmes… Moran wasn't going to kill the only real friend he'd ever had, just because he'd seen Sherlock Holmes' face… he'd be sure that Sherlock was alive… sure that he'd ignored Moriarty's orders… and then… and the what?


	5. Chapter 5

It turned out the best way to find Sherlock Holmes was to stalk John Watson. Moran didn't actually have a lot of jobs, and he was good at multitasking as well as hiding in plain sight. John never saw him, or if he did he never indicated it. Moran couldn't quiet be sure if he saw Sherlock Holmes either, but he paid for more upgrade to Molly's security. He just had the windows replaced with bullet proof glass and the walls strengthened as well. When she asked if he did this to his home as well he told her that he'd done it before he moved in anyway. Something about that soothed her and she didn't argue any more except to force him to take money for it.

His life began to fit into a pattern. Every other day or so he'd follow John around all day, looking for someone who could be Sherlock Holmes (master of disguise, damn him to hell). He changed up his schedule so that he was random and basically unpredictable, but he never saw more than a glimpse of people he thought may be Holmes. When he wasn't having those days he'd follow John for a few hours, but otherwise spend time sorting through Moriarty's crap. He'd inherited most of Moriarty's actual stuff. He thought the information to Moriarty's bank accounts were somewhere, but with all the homes and storage units everywhere he doubted he'd ever find it. He actually didn't care about that much, but it gave him an excuse to experiment with toys with Molly.

For a man who Moran had never known to have sex, James Moriarty had a shocking array of sex toys, some of which he and Molly were too scared touch, let alone use. Others of which had become very happy parts of a growing collection. The question became what to do with the other sex toys. How do you donate that type of stuff and how do you just throw away such expensive crap? Should they get the golden dildo melted down or sell it? Should he find a way to strip the diamond studded butt plug for parts and precious metals, or see if a jewelry shot would let him exchange it for a down payment on an engagement ring (that Molly didn't know about yet)?

Mostly he spent time with Molly when he could. Keeping track of John was eating up his time with her. He'd actually turned down a dance to get drinks with John (much to John's surprise, he hadn't seen Moran in a week after all) just so he could be with Molly for one evening. He was happily curled up against her side, watching the end of _The Notebook_ for about the seventh time. Molly loved it and it'd grown on him. So had a lot of things: _Shakespeare in Love_ , _Enchanted, West Side Story._ They'd both hated _Remember Me_ , but laughed at the British actors playing Americans. When Moran couldn't stand the romances he'd call for an old movie night and drag out old war movies. Though he wondered if it'd been a good idea to introduce her to _Lawrence of Arabia_ , since she now seemed to be more in love with a young Peter O'Toole than with her boyfriend.

"Sebastian?"

"Hm?" Moran had been off in the desert.

"Can I ask you for something?" she asked, looking unsure.

"Sure, whatever it is I'll do it," he said. He rubbed her arm, dragging her up so he lay on his chest.

"You haven't even heard what it is yet," Molly said, looking uncomfortable. He'd been giving in an awful lot since their argument about his family.

"I know, but I'll do it anyway."

"Sebastian, I hate it when you do this."

"Do what?" he asked.

"When you just agree… it's like you think I'll leave you if you don't do exactly what I say," she said.

Sebastian sat up a bit, looking surprised. He hadn't realized what he'd been doing. He'd completely put his life in her hands. The only other person he'd given so much control to had put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Moran started to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Molly demanded, incensed. She was serious, after all.

"I'm sorry," Moran said, wiping the moisture from his eyes. "It's not you, it's me being stupid. I was doing something with you I did with James. He'd tell me what to do and I'd just do it without thinking… I hadn't even realized what I'd been doing," he said. "Does it bother you?"

"Just how much control did James have over your life?"

"More than a man with his lack of mental stability should have," Moran said.

"You know, there are some days when I really don't like James," Molly said.

"What? Why?"

Moran was now sitting up, with Molly seated between his legs, but they weren't really touching, not intentionally. "Because… because Sebastian, he seems really selfish. Normally I hate him because he went and… It's one thing for Sherlock… but James goes and kills himself because someone he didn't know killed himself? How selfish is that? He left you holding the bag. You have to deal with his things. You have to grieve for him and be all alone. I'm pissed at him for being dead… though today it's different. I'm mad at him for using you, because he did," she said, looking all mad.

Moran sat still, considering how best to deal with this. A part of him, the very loyal part of him want to dump her and leave because of what she said about James Moriarty… but another part of that loyal part balked at that. His last directive was to marry this woman… and he loved her too, he really did. Another part of him wanted to just give into her and agree. He needed to find some kind of in between. Honesty seemed like a good idea.

"You're right," Moran said.

"Are you just giving in again?"

"No, I'm telling you that you're right… and that I like that you feel safe enough with our relationship that you can say thing. But I also have to say that I do love James dearly. He was my only family for 14 years and he gave my life the control I needed when I was very, very out of control," he said.

"What do you mean?" Molly urged, resting her hand on his chest as if to give him her support. He wished she'd just push him backwards and take him right there on the sofa.

"Molly… I uh… I didn't tell you why I stopped being in the army."

"I know," she said. "But you told John, right?"

"Yes… wait, how did you know?"

"It made sense… I kind of got you both together so you'd have someone to talk about your experiences with. John told me before he had a therapist he didn't go to any more, and I know you don't talk to people… but it's different when you're talking to someone who's been in the same boat as you… that and John told me to be careful of you."

"Of course he did," Moran grumbled.

"Yeah… so, I assume that it was bad… a dishonorable discharge?" she asked.

"Yes."

"What for?" she asked.

"Officially or unofficially?" He asked.

"Both."

"Officially, for stealing. I told my dad it was because I was gay to make him feel better, but my brother and aunt still think I'm gay, so you're going to have to put up with that when we see them-"

"Sebastian, focus," Molly said, taking his face in her hands.

He turned his face a bit to kiss her palm, making her smile. "Unofficially it was because they found be to be disturbingly violent, but they couldn't pin anything they suspected me of doing on me… so they got me something someone else did."

"Oh," Molly said, considering his words. "And James helped you after this."

"I… I loved being in control. I'm a control freak, I'm sure you know by now."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," she said with a falsely puzzled look, followed by a smirk.

"Smart mouth," he said, leaning in and kissing her lips. "Tasty too," he said.

"Focus," she said.

"You're the one who's distracting me."

"Sebastian."

"Okay… yeah… so James, when I met him… I mean… it's hard to explain… I need control… but what I need, I mean really crave is someone who can control me… I let him tell me what to do because I knew that he was strong enough to control me. I got my control by handing my life over to him… and now to you."

"Me?" Molly squeaked.

"Yes, you," Moran said. He rested his hands on her hips, looking down at the placement before looking back up to meet her eyes. "I'm not looking for a dominatrix. I'm looking for someone I can trust with my life and my heart. You're stronger than you think. You knew that I was dangerous, that I was violent… you know that but you still fight with me and tell me things you know will make me angry. You're not… showy like James… but I don't need that again… I want your subtle manipulation and control. I want you," he breathed. He had no idea how hungry he looked as he looked at her.

"Wow," Molly breathed, floored by the sheer intensity of his emotions. He wasn't talking about dating, he was talking about 14 years of friendship that had kept him from doing things he'd regretted. He was talking about even longer with her. He was talking about a life with her. "Why do you spend so much time in my flat? Yours is nicer," she said.

"It's because you're here," Moran said. "My flat is a place I can sleep and know I'll be safe for a few hours… but you're here… so this is my home… with you, not this flat, with you," he added really quickly, smiling because he knew how awkward and lame he was sounding.

Molly blushed. "Do you ever…" She trailed off, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear and gathering her courage. "Do you ever think of our relationship… becoming more," she said.

"Like marriage?" he asked, not understanding.

"I meant like moving in together… you were thinking of marriage?" she asked.

"I am thinking about marriage… Molly, I'm not sure you understand… I'm not looking for just sex or just talking or movie and dinner dates with you. I want a relationship… I want a life."

"Why haven't you told me before?" she breathed, clearly overwhelmed. He felt bad for dropping everything on her at once, but it was all just coming out at once, and he hated lying to her any more than he absolutely had to.

"Because… well because I knew you wouldn't believe me. I wanted to be sure that you thought the same of me before I pushed forward with buying the ring."

"The ring?"

"Yeah, you know, for an engagement?"

"No… not a ring. You said 'the', 'the ring'… you said… like you've got one picked already," she said, stunned.

It was Sebastian's turn to blush. "Well yeah… that's number three of why I haven't brought it up… I can't quiet afford the ring yet, especially if I want to not blow through all my money. I've decided to sell some of my extra places, by the way." He didn't like it when she worried about his money. He was better off than her, he just tried to live lean anyway. He wanted is money to last.

"You're really… really… you're really serious about this!" She near shouted, really getting it now. A man, this man, this beautiful, powerful, amazing man wanted her! He wanted her to be his rock, his control, his wife. She felt light headed.

"Molly, are you okay?" Sebastian asked, wrapping his arms around her to keep her steady.

"Fine… I'm fine, just a bit star struck," she murmured, leaning against his chest. "Yes," she said.

"Yes what?" he asked, his brows knitting in confused.

"Whenever you ask me… that'll be my answer," she said.

Sebastian looking absolutely shocked for a moment… and then he shook it off, shaking his head a bit. Yes, he was taking the diamond studded but plug and seeing if he could use it as a down payment in the morning. "Hey, don't ruin the surprise," he croaked.

Molly giggled, feeling giddy. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with all the fire she could find inside herself. "But you've got to do a proper asking, with dinner and taking me out and everything," she said when she caught her breath.

Sebastian nodded, still a bit breathless. He had his arms around her back now. He seemed like he was a bit star struck himself too. "Okay, yeah, I promise," he said. "Molly… you really mean it right?"

Molly reached up, touching his cheeks again. She rubbed her thumbs against his stumble. He seemed so lost, like he desperately wanted what she offered but was afraid of it being snatched away. She leaned up and kissed him. "Yes, I'm sure. And you better ask me. That's and order," she told him.

Sebastian grinned and dragged her back into the kiss. They stayed that way for a few minutes, just enjoying touching each other and wrapping themselves up in each other's lives. Molly was the one to pull away first, finding her phone buzzing.

"Ignore it," Moran groaned.

"It's John," Molly said.

Moran took notice then. "What is it?"

"He wants to know if I've asked you yet."

"Asked me what?"

"He's going to Sherlock's grave tomorrow and… well he's been feeling like someone's been following him. He's a bit wary about going to such a open place alone. I know you don't like Sherlock, but-"

Sebastian held up his hands. "Say no more. I already told you yes, but now you tell him. I'd have come if he asked."

"He said you brushed him off for this evening."

"I did, but only because I wanted a Molly night."

"Oh, well that's acceptable," Molly said, texting John back before turning her phone off. "Come on, let's go to the bedroom," she said, offering him her hand. Sebastian was of the couch in record time, dragging Molly to bed.

* * *

John sent him a text with the information about the visit that evening, but Sebastian had his phone off and didn't get it until morning. They decided to go before lunch, about an hour before noon. John had rearranged his work schedule for the day so he could go visit. Moran caught a cab and went to John' flat, picking him up before they rode toward the cemetery.

"Sorry for dragging you out like this," John said when they were about half way there. They hadn't even exchanged hellos when John got in.

"No, it's fine… hell, I wish I knew where James' body was so I could do this," Moran admitted, looking over at his friend.

"Molly shut her phone off last night," John commented in and off handed manner.

Sebastian grinned despite the current situation. "She finally found out that I plan on marrying her. She was particularly impressed when I described the ring I'd picked out for her. It's on hold at the moment."

"On hold? I thought you had money."

"I don't have 10,000 pounds on hand, John," Sebastian said in exasperation.

"10,000 pounds? Are you buying her a ring or a car? How much was the down payment?"

"A ring. I'm not sure the exact amount. They'll send me the exact figure once they've had the butt plug appraised."

"Excuse me, the what?"

"I inherited a diamond studded but plug from James," Moran said. "I mean, it's not like anyone's going to use it, and what the hell am I supposed to do with it?"

"Use it to buy an engagement ring, apparently," John said, laughing a bit despite himself. He knew he should be very sad about this visit. It did hurt, but he didn't want it to hurt like his last visit had. He needed it to hurt less. That was part of why he was bringing Seb. He needed someone there with him.

The cab stopped at the cemetery. Moran paid the man and sent him on his way. "We'll walk to where there are cabs. It's better to walk it off," Sebastian said.

"Agreed," John said. They walked along the rows and rows of headstones until they came to where Sherlock's grave was. John got them lost a few times along the way, but Seb didn't care. He read headstones with interest, and would stop to straighten up the grave sites or pull up from rogue weeds here and there. John would stop and wait for him to finish straightening up and use the time to try and orient himself. They had to stop more than once, but John didn't mind. He didn't think the actual visit would take long.

Finally they did find Sherlock's grave. "You want me to slip off somewhere?" Seb offered.

"No, you can stay," John said. He sighed heavily. This was the hard part. He walked over to the headstone and rested his hand on the smooth top. "Hey… Sherlock," he said. He hesitated on his friend's name. He glanced back at Sebastian who was busying himself with the weeds on the grave next to Sherlock's.

"Hey," he said again. "I'm sorry… I didn't come visit again… sooner… yeah… this is Sebastian Moran, a new friend. Molly's soon to be fiancé. This nutcase is about to spend 10,000 pounds on a ring, can you believe that."

"Just because I'm weeding doesn't mean I can't hear you," Moran said loudly and John chuckled despite himself. He took a deep breathe through his nose, trying to keep from crying. He'd succeeded the last time; he'd do it again this time.

"He's not you… but he's not a bad guy… too much," he added, smiling a bit when he heard Seb chuckling next to him. "I just… I miss you, you terrible old sob," John said, patting the top of the headstone and the dropping his head. "Yes, that's all I have to say. You know the rest… I don't really want to talk to you right now," John said.

"You ready?" Moran asked, standing up.

"Yeah… no… I just need to be a lone for a bit, you know, wander some… I'm just… gonna walk near the road," John said.

"You'll remember that's north right, you remember where north is, right." Sebastian teased.

"Yes, you arsehole," John said, but smiled a tiny bit.

"I'll be here for a short bit," Moran said. "I have things… I need to sort out with your friend… and things I need to say to James… might as well say them here as anywhere else," he said.

"Yeah, okay," John said and walked off, soldier stiff.

Moran sighed heavily and shifted into a military stance and waited. Finally he heard the crunch of grass behind him and knew it was time. "So, you're alive, Sherlock Holmes," Moran said. His voice held no warmth, only a blank neutrality he used when speaking to clients and victims.

"Sebastian Moran," Sherlock's deep voice said as he came to stand next to the sniper, looking down at his own grave. "I never would have expected to see you having a night out with John, so imagine my surprise when I see you here."

"You're not surprised I'm here. You were surprised to see me in the pub, that's why you hid. But you've known I've been tracking you for a while."

"Does John know you're stalking him?"

"I'm stalking you, not him. He just happens to be the proper bait."

"I'm surprised at you," Sherlock Holmes said and Moran glanced at him. He looked more underfed than he'd been when he'd jumped off the roof, like how he'd looked at the pool.

"For staying so close to my target?"

"Snipers, hired guns don't tend to hang around once their purse has been killed."

"Yes, but I'm not just a hired gun."

"No, you're Moriarty's right hand, so why are you here and not running what's left of his business?"

"The business will go to hell. Inherited Moriarty's craptrove," Moran said, sarcasm lacing his voice. He was never going to get through all that stuff. He smirked a bit when he saw that Sherlock looked a bit taken aback by his words.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Why are you here, Moran?"

"John asked me to be here. He didn't want to come alone."

"No, not here, why are you near John."

"I'm following James Moriarty's final will," Moran said.

"You're so loyal," Sherlock said, malice in his voice.

"You are too, stupid too… you stick around once you realize I'm nearby. If I hadn't seen you then I wouldn't have to kill John, isn't that how Moriarty's deal went?"

"His ultimatum you mean? Isn't he dead?" Sherlock mused.

"Yes, very," Moran said coldly. He glanced over at Sherlock and suddenly hated him so much e wanted to strangle the other man. John was Moran's friend, but with Sherlock there then Moran would have to hurt John, one way or another. Couldn't the bastard have just been like Moriarty and stayed dead? More than anything else, Moran resented Sherlock for being alive when James was dead.

"Then why are you here?"

"I loved James Moriarty, and I promised to carry out his final words. You know he thought you might find a way to weasel out… too bad," Moran said.

"You're going to leave John alone," Sherlock hissed. "And Molly. I've seen you hanging around her. They aren't yours to play with."

"I beg to differ. You, you are going to stay away from John and Molly," Sebastian said. "If you approach either one of them, then I will kill John."

"Not Molly?"

"No, you see Molly's mine. Her facebook should have her post about our imminent engagement in a day or two when she can't hold it in anymore. What? Did I throw you a curveball?" Moran asked.

Sherlock looked off kilter, like Moran had actually thrown him a curveball in the dirt and then Sherlock had come out swinging at it. "Molly isn't yours to use."

"No, I'm her's to use. You're so stupid, Sherlock Holmes… got the best woman in the world in your grasp and you let her go? I hope you're just asexual like James said, because otherwise your stupider than about any man I've ever met."

"So, are you going to kill John now that you know I'm alive?" Sherlock asked, ignoring the bit about Molly. Moran was pissed to realize it was because he figured Molly was just too far gone for him to save. She'd made he own bed, and now she'd lie in it and all that bullshit. It pissed Moran off, really pissed him off.

"No," Moran said.

"No?"

"James said he owed you a fall… well you did fall. He told me to kill John, but as you pointed out, he's dead now, and I'm not. I'll kill John is you get near him, or Molly, or anyone who can get word to them. If they find out you're around then I will kill him… but no, I'm not going to kill him just because you're alive. No, I'm going to hunt you, and kill you and burry you where no one can find you, just like James."

"Oh, you shouldn't worry about the body of good old Jim," Sherlock said, looking absolutely furious for someone who rarely emoted anything at all aside from frustration and boredom.

"What? Where is he? What did you do with him?"

"You're standing on him," Sherlock said.

Moran suddenly looked down at where he was standing, feeling horrified. "You bastard," Moran whispered.

"This isn't the grave of Sherlock Holmes. This is the grave of James Moriarty," Sherlock said. "I think that's enough talking for one day, he said, starting to walk off."

"I mean it, you bastard," Moran snapped. "I'm going to fucking kill you, I'm going to kill you for what you did to him."

"He did it to himself."

"And you should be in hell with him, not walking around with the living!" Moran snapped and Sherlock's back.

Sherlock let out a very heavy sigh, clearly getting annoyed past his tolerance point. "It's good that I'm your target. I'll stay in London, but you aren't going to catch me."

"This isn't a game, Holmes. I don't play games, I kill people for a living… I'm very, very good at it, just you wait."

"I'll be waiting on bated breath," Sherlock mocked as he walked away.

Sebastian Moran watched him walk away, silently seething as his eyes followed the figure of Sherlock Holmes. When he was sure that Sherlock was out of sight her turned back to the grave. He placed his hand on the smooth top where John's hand had been before.

"James… Moriarty… Boss… I'm sorry… I just can't follow your directive to the letter. I know you always said sentiment would be my undoing, but it undid you too. You won't have killed yourself if you didn't have that need, that childish need to win." Moran stopped and took a breath, trying to calm himself and keep from tears. "I'm not going to kill John. He's my friend… and I can't just kill him… not for no reason. I'll make sure Sherlock is dead and then I won't have to kill him… I'm sorry I can't do better. I just can't," he said.

He paused, patted the top of the headstone awkwardly and turned, walking away. He was aware of just how military his stand was. He simply couldn't walk away any other way. He was so relieved to have found James' body, and so shattered at where it was. Sherlock Holmes and his cruel jokes… If Sebastian Moran hadn't been so stiff and military when he walked away, then he'd simply have had to lay down and sobbed from the pain he was feeling at that moment.

He pushed all of it aside. He needed to get back to John. They'd walk to town and catch a cab from there… go get food and then Sebastian would drop john off at work and head for Molly's flat. He'd make her something delicious and be waiting for her… he needed to hold her that night… even if he couldn't tell her what was really wrong…


	6. Chapter 6

"What do you mean you want me to go to Molly's family reunion?" John asked.

"No want, need," Sebastian said, shifting a bit in the booth.

"I don't understand," John said. Sebastian had been weird ever sense they left the cemetery.

Sebastian sighed heavily. "Look I just… There's someone in town, an enemy," he said. "Someone I just got confirmation of… I need you… I need you to go with Molly, to protect her," he explained. "Please, I will do anything if you'll do this for me," he said. He would beg. He'd get down on his hands and knees if he had to. He had done so, so many things for James Moriarty. He didn't have any pride left to strip away.

John looked stunned. He looked into Sebastian Moran's eyes and saw something he hadn't expected: the eyes of a man who lived always at war. Sometimes survival meant going things that haunted your dreams. Moran had assimilated that part of survival into himself. It was who he was. He'd do anything John wanted if only John would go and protect Molly.

"It's fine, Seb," John said, setting down his cup of coffee. "Whatever the reason, it's important to you and I don't even work weekends. Why do you think you have to beg for this?"

Sebastian hesitated. John knew exactly why, but he wanted Sebastian to verbalize it. "It was… the only way I could ever get James to do anything for me," he said.

"Well, it doesn't work like that for me," John said, sipping his coffee. "Besides, Molly's my friend too. She's been very helpful to me since… well… I mean, Sherlock trusted her and he never trusted anyone… though I half think it was because he knew he could manipulate her, though half the time I don't think he knew what he was even doing. Anyway, that doesn't matter because I'd do it anyway, even if she wasn't my friend."

"Really?" Sebastian asked. Caring like that was so foreign to him.

John looked up from his coffee and looked at the blonde man sitting across from him. "You remind me of him sometimes… I don't think Sherlock ever understood why anyone could care about him." Now Sebastian really looked floored. "You said so yourself… we're mates, not best mates, but close enough. Besides, someone's in danger, and I can help."

"God! You're just so British!" Sebastian gasped dramatically.

"Aren't you?"

"Not like you are. Christ, you might as well be a living 'Keep Calm, Carry On' poster. I don't know how the Army survives without you."

John chuckled going back to his chips. "There are a lot of people in the army."

"Yes but you're… I don't know, special," Sebastian said. He smiled but it was sad and very much to himself, like he couldn't help it and didn't even want John to see. "I think I'd have been different if you'd been my officer… at least it wouldn't have turned out like it did."

"Do you regret what happened?"

"It pisses me off. They framed me John… they didn't want to look at what I did. The bastard who actually did the theft later got a commission, can you believe that?"

"Yes," John said dully. "Drink your coffee."

"Yes, Sir," Sebastian said, saluting when John looked. John snorted at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Are you still planning on helping out at the art gallery?"

"It's not technically at the gallery," Sebastian admitted.

"Just don't tell me. I've got friends who work at the Met, remember?"

"Yeah, I'm not telling you anything," Sebastian said, relaxing.

"What kind of confirmation did you get?"

"Hm?"

"You said you got confirmation at the graveyard."

"Oh… the guy came up and talked to me."

"And he's targeting Molly?"

"And you actually… well, he's really targeting you."

"He's been following me?"

"No, I have," Sebastian said. "Oh don't look surprised, stalker tendencies, remember? It wasn't you I was looking for it, was him.

"Is that why you paid for the drinks?"

"Yeah, actually. I saw him then. I think he's been following you before that, though."

"So, if he's been following me… why is after Molly?"

"He's after me. You're the bait, so is Molly. Look… I got in contact with your girlfriend about the security."

"When? I told you not to!"

"At the grave. I called her."

"Why… her phone's unlisted!"

"I told you I've got friends," Sebastian said. "You're getting almost as mad as Molly did when I broke in."

"There's a reason, Sebastian."

"Yes, I know, but I called her for a reason to. You're not currently safe. I explained it to her. She was very sympathetic. I told her Sherlock Holmes made a lot of enemies. Even being dead, with Moriarty missing from action his whole business is in shambles and they want someone to blame. Sherlock's a great scapegoat, but he's dead, so it falls on you."

"Just me?" John asked.

"Well, me too, but we decided not to talk about that."

"Are we ever going to?" John asked.

Sebastian looked uncomfortable. "Maybe one day… but you probably know already. I just… You are important to me. First friend I've had since James showed up in my life… I can see why Sherlock Holmes found you so valuable. James was wrong, you're not just a pet. You're important."

It was John's turn to look floored. "I thought we weren't talking about it," he finally choked out.

"We'll talk about when you want to," Sebastian said, grabbing his phone and starting to thumb through his phonebook just to have something to do besides look at John. He was afraid. John had known for a while, but if he verbalized it anymore, then would John walk out of his life too? Would he take Molly with him?

"You're really not a good man," John said.

"I told you that already," Sebastian said.

"You've killed people," John said.

"So did you, so did your best friend," Sebastian responded, keeping his eyes focused on the screen.

"Are you like him?"

"James? Me? Please, I'm a good sniper. I remember things very, very well, but one thing I will never be is that good or that… twisted," Sebastian said, relishing the word. He'd been drawn to Moriarty, a man who was smarter than him, cared less than him, was in more control than him. Moriarty was essentially who he'd always wanted to me. Instead of craving what he couldn't have, he was content to sit in the shadow of someone so brilliant.

"I meant... well the old lady?" John asked.

"As, his bomb habit. No, not my area. I told him I'd be there for him at the pool, and arranged my people, but I was hands off in that operation… actually as I remember we'd just gotten back from Africa and I had crashed and he kept waking me up."

"Seb, you're babbling."

"Sorry," Sebastian said, realizing that he must be really nervous. He hadn't messed up like that even with James in… so many years Sebastian couldn't remember the last time he'd slipped into his childish habit.

"You had a gun trained on me?" he asked

"On Sherlock. He had the gun." Sebastian said. He pulled a very blank face because of the face john was making. "I wasn't going to let my boss die, not like that. I didn't need a laser pointer. If Sherlock Holmes had really been about to pull the trigger I would have shot a hole through his wrist," Sebastian said.

"You'd have killed us," John said.

"Yes, because that was what I was told to do."

"Would you kill us now?"

"If Sherlock Holmes was alive, yes. You… no… I don't think I can anymore."

"Why Sherlock?"

"James would be alive if it wasn't for Sherlock Holmes."

"And Sherlock Holmes would be alive if it wasn't for James Moriarty," John said, getting testy. How had it come to this?

"You can't have two super powers existing near each other. If you do they get you New York half destroyed while Superman tries to save it, or you get the goddamn Cold War… you can't have two super powers existing at once," Sebastian said.

John sat there silently for a long time, long enough for Sebastian to start to get really nervous and then to get really scared. He felt himself shake a bit and he wanted to laugh at himself. He was reverting to back when he was a boy. He never got scared when someone died, or got hurt, or he got too high, or heard a loud noise or killed something. He got scared when the people he cared about got angry at him. He was afraid of disappointing his father more than he was afraid of anything else in his life. In some ways it had been easier for his father to die when he dead. But now John…

Sebastian reached out his hand, as if to touch John's arm, then he stopped and put his hand back on his side of the table. "John, please, say something," he begged. He was shaking badly now. Even John would be able to see it. He wasn't trembling .he got fucking freezing when he was scared and nothing would warm him up and so he'd shake like a leaf in the winter's wind because he couldn't stop himself.

"Are you okay?" John asked.

Sebastian let out a barking laugh. "Christ… I've just told you… Jesus, I told you I'd have killed you, that I worked for your enemy and you're asking me if _I'm_ alright?"

"You're shaking."

"I'm freezing."

"Is it that cold?"

"No… I shake when I'm scared. I'm only scared when someone I care about is disappointed in me. James always called it my sentiment problem."

"You…" John stopped and shook his head before looking back at Sebastian. "You kill people for a leaving and you're trembling from head to toe because I'm disappointed in you?"

"And I look like a little girl who didn't get her tea party. I know, I'm an idiot, I can't fucking help it."

John shook his head again. "I am disappointed."

"I know," Sebastian said like he was in pain.

"I can't… this isn't just something I can forgive," John said. "You worked… you worked for the man who… you worked for Moriarty. How can I just forgive that?"

"You can't," Moran said, slipping back in his seat, sighing heavily.

"You're paying for lunch," John said. "Let's go," he added, standing up. Sebastian scrambled up and went to pay. He was surprised when John was waiting for him by the road, and even had a cab waiting. "In," John ordered and Sebastian climbed in, followed by John. John gave the directions to his home. Sebastian wondered if John knew he'd asked to go to 221b Baker Street.

"I'm not sorry," Sebastian said. "Best 14 years of my life… I can't apologize for something I don't regret… I regret that I might not have gotten to meet you, and I'm glad that I did-"

"Just stop. Stop it," John ordered and Sebastian shut up, He sat in silence for a long time, not looking at anything in particular. They arrived at 221b Baker Street but neither of them said anything. John paid for the cab and push Sebastian out, following after him. "We'll take the tube," John said, starting to head down the street.

"John," Sebastian said, still standing in front of the sandwich shop. "If you're going to chuck me, will you just tell me now? I can't stand being afraid like this."

John stopped, sighing heavily and walked back. "I'm angry… I'm really angry and right now I hate you," he said. Sebastian seemed to wilt. "But no… I'm not going to just chuck you."

"Why?" Sebastian asked. There it was again, just like Sherlock. Neither of them would ever get it, would they? Sherlock certainly never would, not now.

"Because," John stopped nearly midword. He needed to say it slower. He took a deep breath and pressed on. "Because having a friend is about not just giving up after the first fight. Sherlock may be the most difficult man I ever met, but I stuck by him even when I hated him, even when I was disappointed… until that last time… and then he jumped… and I don't want to make that mistake again."

"I'm not going to kill myself," Sebastian said.

"I didn't think Sherlock would either," John said. "I need time to figure this out… I'm really angry at you, but so far… so far you've been honest with me, and I kind of suspected anyway. And you're bizarrely protective. I believe you when you say that you care about me."

"Thank you," Sebastian croaked.

"So… what time do you need me to get Molly for this event?"

"Friday at 5," Sebastian said, his head spinning from the rapid change of topic. "Just get a taxi. I'll reimburse you for everything you pay for. If I'm lucky this bastard will show up Friday night and then I can just come down."

"You think that will happen?"

"I don't know, but I can dream," Sebastian said. "John I… thanks," he said.

"Yeah," John said. "So, the tube?"

"Yes," Sebastian said, following after John.

* * *

"You resent me being here?" John asked as the cab toodled along the road toward Molly's aunt's home.

"I didn't think Sebastian would talk you into it," Molly said, pouting a bit.

"You resent me for not being him?"

"That too," Molly said and John chuckled. "Is it okay with Mary for you to be here?"

"Mary? Christ, why does everyone know about her? What did that complete bladder mouth tell you?"

"Sebastian told me that she perfectly lovely and gracious," Molly said, looking thoughtful. "John… Sebastian isn't Sherlock, you know that right?"

"Yeah," John said, feeling a stab in his hear. Sherlock… Moriarty…Seb. Christ it was all screwed up. "Yeah, I know."

"Did you two have a row?"

"Why?"

"He's been extra clingy recently. I don't think he's gone home since you both got back from the grave. He brought a few of his… things," meaning guns. "To my house and just stayed for the most part. Are you both okay?"

"It's not like we're dating Molly."

"Friends are important too, John," Molly said, giving John a cold look for his patronizing words.

"It's complicated."

"Of course it is," Molly said. "Are you going to tell me he's dangerous?"

"Well he is. Why do you ask?"

"He talked about maybe not getting engaged… that maybe he should leave. He doesn't say much about his work and I don't ask because he's afraid of something. But he let something slip, he said that he'd done something that he thought if you told me that I'd have to leave him for."

John winced. Was that true? John Watson felt split down the middle. Half of him wanted to rip away everything from Sebastian Moran, a man who'd worked for James Moriarty. Another part of him didn't want to rip away the last good things in Seb's life. "It's complicated," John said. Better just to not talk about it then, right?

"You're not going to tell me?" Molly asked.

"No."

"And he's not going to tell me?"

"It doesn't look like it."

"I want to know what is it with you men… it's like pulling teeth to get anything out of you. Has it occurred to you that maybe we can survive whatever horrible secrets you have?"

John looked over at her, really looked at her. She dealt with dead bodies, those who died from old age or disease… or those he'd been raped or mutilated. Every day she dealt with the dead with patience and care. She didn't get to clean them out, just document them and send them out again to whatever their final resting place would be. She put up with Sherlock for years more than he had, and she'd taken the news that Moriarty had tricked her into dating him with more ease than he would have initially thought.

"You're probably right," John said, settling back in the cab a bit more. "It's just… He was very open with me the other day. He told me things he probably shouldn't have… and half of me really just wants him out of my life, and the other half of me is floored that he'd… He really shouldn't have told me. I don't know if it was trust or hope or guilt, but…"

"I feel like he's you turned inside out sometimes," Molly said.

"That's disgusting," John said.

"I've only met one man more dangerous than you, John, and at the time he seemed even more gentle than you do."

"Moriarty?" John asked.

"I really did like him John, I really did. Yes, I did try to show off a bit because Sherlock either didn't notice me or it was like he did see that I liked him and used it against him. But I really liked Jim. When I saw him I thought… I thought he was so dangerous, I could just see it in his eyes," Molly said.

"Really?" John asked, remembering how innocuous Jim from IT had seemed. Even Sherlock hadn't noticed.

"Sebastian's the opposite. I mean he can seem sweet, like when I first met him… but he seems dangerous. I'm sure he is. I know he is… but he's sweeter than he lets on. He's such a puppy and he doesn't even realize it. Sometimes… I'll come home and he'll just be looking at something James bought, something really stupid, but Sebastian will look so lost. He doesn't know I see it… because it's those times when he's not alert. He thinks he's always on guard, but he isn't."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I know Sebastian's done terrible things, and I know he doesn't really care. I also know that he will never hurt me, or you, or Mary when he ever meets her, or Mrs. Hudson, or Mike. He'll never hurt the people who matter to use, and he'll do everything he can to protect the lives we live, not just our lives but our life style. He'll do it all by himself if we let him."

"I still don't understand."

"Whatever it is you either need to learn to live with it, or you need to tell him to leave you alone. It's cruel to hold him at arm's length like this," Molly said and John actually felt properly scolded.

"It's complicated."

"I know it is, but he's either your friend or he isn't."

"What he did is awful, Molly. It's-"

"Don't tell me. He can tell me when he wants to, but no one else," Molly said with so much conviction in her eyes.

"Okay, I won't tell," John said, shifting in his seat a bit. "I just feel uncomfortable… if you get married."

"I hope he'll tell me before then, but he will tell me someday."

"Why are you so sure?"

"Besides that he told you? Because he tells me everything, especially if he feels guilty about it."

"Tell little guilts can hold off a person from telling a bit one."

"I know, but I don't think he can do that. He said that James knew everything about him… and while I'm not sure I'll ever be as important as James was… well James is dead, isn't he?" Molly pointed out.

"Fair," John said. He looked out the window. He had the weekend to work it out on his own. He'd see what he could do. One way or another he'd had to tell Seb his answer on Monday.

* * *

Sebastian felt his hands shake a bit. He was over caffeinated, but it was Sunday morning and we desperately needed to get there before Molly went home. He knew it was stupid, sentimental, stupid. He knew every reason why he should stay and sleep, but he honestly didn't care. He looked down at the ring in his hands. He should have put the money away, should have, but he'd put it all on the ring… most of it. He was still amused just how much money the damn butt plug had been worth.

Molly would want a grand wedding wouldn't she? He'd have to save up. She'd want all her family there, right? And John, probably Mary, Mike Samford and his family. That wouldn't be very big. She'd want his family, which meant his godawful aunt and brother and brother's little family, didn't it? He didn't even want to think about them. One way or another he'd never to do more jobs in order to save up for the wedding.

If she accepted.

Sebastian honestly didn't want to send Molly off with John. If John told her, then it was all over… but their safety was more important. He owed James Moriarty everything. No matter what it cost him he'd put a bullet in John Watson's brain if Sherlock Holmes approached him or Molly Hooper. It would be easier to dispose of Sherlock if John didn't know anyway. If John knew then it really would be all over.

Sebastian looked back down at the ring and smiled. He'd promise Molly and night out and dinner and dancing and a show. He was thinking the ballet, or the opera, things James would indulge in when he got bored enough. Sebastian had gone with him on occasion. Molly said she'd danced ballet when she was a girl, while her mother was still alive. He wondered if any of Molly's family had pictures.

He felt so tired out of it. He hated dealing with dead bodies. It was one with to do it for James and a whole other damn thing to do it for the money. He'd shot the guy on Friday night, and then his employer offered him double his original price to get rid of the body.

Oh, he knew how. He knew exactly which acids to use, what to burn, what to grind up and be left of ass or fertilizer. He knew all of it. It just had taken from Friday evening up until early, early Sunday morning when the sun was still down. He'd bathed and gone to the ring place, thankful they opened very early with a phone call, and bought his ring.

Now he was awake on by sheer will power and the fact that he'd see the body whenever he closed his eyes. The killing part was fine with him, but bodies creeped him out. James never made him dispose of bodies more than a few times. He was very good, but it always cost him something. It wasn't kindness that made Moriarty stop making his right hand do clean up, it was necessity. Moran really had nearly lost it the last time he'd done disposal, nine years previous. It looked like some things never did leave you.

He just needed to get to Molly. He just needed to get there. He wanted to get there before everyone else left. Why was this place an hour and a half away? What if everyone decided to leave early? He probably should tell Molly, but that would ruin the surprise. He dropped the ring back down his shirt. He'd found a chain to put it on, not sure where else to put it, and not wanting it to fall out of his pocket or something stupid like that.

"Sir, we're here," the cabbie said, jolting Sebastian awake. When had he fallen asleep? He'd been thinking about the ring and Molly and wedding stuff and somehow plans had become dreams.

"Yeah, okay," Sebastian said, paying the man and getting out. Molly's aunt's house was sweet and quaint and was surprisingly not pressed into another house, but had an actual lawn. The front gate was open and he walked through it and up to the door. He knocked and waited.

The only warning her got was a muffled "I'll get it" it, and then John Watson had opened the door. Sebastian knew real fear had crossed his face. He hadn't slept in about fifty hours, and that mixed with his body disposal meant that he was just not prepared to deal with John, especially if John was going to break off their relationship.

"Who is it?" a voice called.

"Molly, it's for you!" John called back. The voice hadn't been Molly's. "We didn't think you'd come,' he said.

"I… uh… didn't think I would either," Sebastian admitted. "How was it?"

"Most everyone left already," John said, stepping aside to let him in, but Sebastian didn't move. He couldn't quite get his body to move.

"Sebastian!" Molly gasped, running to him and wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. For just a second everything felt right. Sebastian smiled and slipped his arms around her and just held her, for just a moment.

"Molly," he murmured. "I'm sorry I'm so late."

"No, it's fine. You can meet my aunt Emma and my cousin Milly," she said, taking his hand and leading him back to the kitchen. Behind him he heard the door shut and John's footsteps as he followed after them. "Emma, Milly, this is my boyfriend, Sebastian," Molly said, her arm locked in his, beaming proudly. Him, she was proud of him.

Aunt Emma was a dear older woman, probably a bit younger than Mrs. Hudson's age with wise brown eyes and hair that was brown far past the shade of 'who does she think she's kidding?' Yet there was a sweetness about her that reminded him of Molly and that was absolutely enough for him to like her instantly. The other person in the room was quite a few years younger than Molly, the age to be at University still. She too had those wide brown eyes, like Molly, but her hair was bleached platinum blonde, which was obvious from the darkened roots. Her mouth was hanging open.

"I cannot believe you were actually telling the truth, Molls."

"Molls?" Sebastian asked, feeling offended for the damage done to Molly's name.

"Milly," the older woman chastised gently, standing up with a bit of trouble and walking over to Sebastian and Molly. Sebastian could tell this woman was important to Molly, and as such he wanted her to like him. But how?

"I was so disappointed when you said you weren't with the young doctor," the woman said, glancing over at John who was shaking his head while blocking the kitchen door. "But this one's good too… so handsome. I'm afraid you took after me. Hooper women love bad boys," she said, making Sebastian blushed. She made him sound like he was trying to be a Fonzi clone.

"Aunt Emma," Molly gasped but smiled, leaning her cheek against Sebastian's chest. "He's very good to me," she said. Sebastian was too tired to find words to say, but he felt honored to hear her speak about him with such a loving tone in her voice.

"A nice young man," Emma agreed. "What's this?" she asked. He didn't know if he was just so out of it, or if Aunt Emma really could move that fast, but she had the chain and ring out of his shirt so fast he couldn't have stopped her. "Oh my, what's this?" she asked. Molly and Milly both looked dead stunned at the ring.

"Is that it?" John asked, having come to see as well. "The 10,000 pound ring?" he asked.

"10,000," Molly squeaked.

"Pounds!" Milly gasped. "Take it off, we have to see!" She declared.

"I uh… it was supposed to be for later," he said, but reached up, taking the chain off and slipping the ring off so the women could see. It wasn't the number of diamonds, though there were five, a large center stone, two framing stone, and two smaller stones framing the framers. The cut and clarity was excellent, and the band was white gold. It looked as beautiful as 10,000 pounds could buy, but was still classic, and not showy. "I'm sorry," he said to Molly. He hadn't wanted her to see yet. He'd wanted her to see first.

"I know," Molly said, and he felt bad. "I know… I asked for a big night… but… Sebastian Moran, please propose to me here," she asked, smiling gently.

Sebastian was stunned once more, and was getting tired of it. Still, he slid to his knee and took her hand, slipping the ring on her hand. He turned her hand over, kissing from the tip of her middle finger down to the well of her palm. "I don't have a speech planned, or another special. I got this early this morning on my way to see you, because I wanted the assuredity of having it, and because I wanted to see you and meet your family. I don't have anything planned… but then I didn't plan for you or for these past few months. You were the biggest surprise of my life… and the best gift… and I want to be with you for as long as you'll allow me. This is promise to you. You have my life… if you want it," he said.

Molly didn't say anything. He already knew her answer. She'd told him already. She just leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I love you, Sebastian Moran."

"I love you too," he said, slipping his arms around her waist and holding her. That position felt perfect for him. Him on his knees in front of her, at her will… and yet her bent over in half with her arms around him and his arms around her. Safe. He felt safe. He didn't feel his tiredness or the memories of the previous fifty hours. All he felt was her, and it was perfect.


	7. Chapter 7

It was an odd thing to wake up on Monday morning and realize he actually was engaged. He was used to having some kind of nightmare after body disposal, but he hadn't. Part of it was probably pure exhaustion, but the other part was that Molly had completely worn him out when they got home, and they feel asleep wrapped up in each other's arms. When he woke up Molly was nowhere to be seen, and from the light it was midafternoon.

He sighed heavily about to sit up when he realized a note had been wrapped around his wrist with string. He smiled a bit; thinking about how cute Molly must have thought it looked. It was cute, Molly cute. He removed the paper, unfolding it and beginning to read.

_Good morning Sebastian_

_I know you hate it when I don't wake you, but you were so exhausted that you sleep asleep before dinner yesterday. I turned your phone so you could get some sleep. John called earlier. He wants to speak with you this evening. Try not to get home too late._

_Love,_

_Molly_

Sebastian thought that it was too early in the morning to be that emotionally torn. On one hand he liked how much Molly thought of him, on the other hand… John. He didn't even want to think about john. He just wanted to be happily engaged for a while. There's no way John could have just forgiven him or be ready to move on. Breaking up was better done in person, and John was an honorable man.

He sighed and grabbed his phone, turning the volume up. Four messages.

" _Moran, that was brilliant work you did. I have a new offer for you."_

It was from the man he'd done the work for over the weekend. He'd happily do another job. _But if he thinks I'm doing about body disposal, he's out of his mind. I'm only going to do that one more time in my life, and that will be for Sherlock Holmes._

" _Sebastian, I have arranged everything with aunt Ginny. You will come up Friday afternoon and stay till Sunday evening. I'll be there. My wife and children will come up on Saturday, if you prove to be on your best behavior."_

Sebastian rolled his eyes. August just loved to boss him around, little bastard. What? Did he think that Sebastian was going to show up as some flaming homosexual with a new beard? Probably, actually. August acted like gay was a disease his family could catch. How did his wife put up with that? According to James and the woman's records she was very firmly Bi. Sebastian imaged that August had no idea. He considered letting it slip… except that the woman and children probably didn't deserve the pain that came from it. And Molly would scold him. Damn.

" _Sebastian, I know Molly's told you that I asked to speak with you this evening. I'll be at the pub at six."_

John didn't give away anything, nor use more words than he had to. It would have been so easy to let the phrase slip 'we need to talk'. Was any phrase in the English language more hated than that? John was either avoiding the dating connotations, or it was actually not as bad as Sebastian was afraid of. Why did he tell him again? That was such a stupid move… it just… seemed like the right thing at the time. Sebastian didn't actually enjoy lying, he just did what he had to. Normally he could trust his own judgment better than that.

" _Sebastian, I'll be frying fish this evening. Don't fuss, just make a salad before you leave. Love you!"_

Sebastian smiled. Molly made everything better.

* * *

Sebastian Moran arrived at the pub at exactly 6 pm. He didn't want to get there early, or late. He couldn't seem too eager for an answer or like he didn't care. He slipped inside, not too many people around. He saw John sitting a booth already but he avoided heading right over, going and getting a drink first. First a shot of whiskey, and then a large glass of lager. He needed the fortification, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know John's answer anyway.

"Sorry I'm late," Moran said, sitting down across from John.

"It's not late when you come through the door right on time. What did you do? Wander around by the door for five minutes?"

"Only two," Sebastian said, taking a big swig. "So… we need to talk?"

"Yeah," John said, shifting a bit in his seat. "This hasn't really been an easy decision."

"I understand."

"I knew that no matter what choice I made I'd have to commit to it. Either I can accept you as my friend and try to deal with the past, or I have to reject you as my friend, and I need to tell Molly the truth as well."

"You haven't told her," Sebastian said. He knew because he'd just spoken with her on the phone only ten minutes before.

"Not because I didn't try. I did try, but she told me that she trusted you to tell her eventually."

"I don't plan to tell her."

"Did you plan to tell me?"

"I really planned not to."

"Then why did you… that's one thing I don't understand. You didn't have to tell me anything. I mean, I knew you had a secret, but I just figured you did work that wasn't quiet on the right side of legal."

"Really, that should have been enough to send you away," Sebastian said.

"Yeah, but then you know who I spent the last few years following after."

"True Sebastian said, sipping his drink.

"Why did you tell me?"

"I didn't… want to lie to you. My dad used to say that a relationship's no good if both parties don't know the big secrets… of course he said it as advice for me and James."

"Wait what?" John asked. He'd heard that James had been Moran's pretend boyfriend, but it was different to know it and to be thinking of James Moriarty playing Sebastian Moran's boyfriend… or imagining Sebastian's aunt trying to shoot Moriarty's crotch off. John suddenly started laughing. The image was too brilliant. He wish he had video of it.

"Shut up!" Sebastian grumbled. "Christ, I never lived it down. "Oh, Seb, you know what your dad says! A relationship's no good if both parties don't know the big secrets." I hated when he used that against me." John just laughed harder, thrown by Moran's pretty spot on Moriarty impression.

"Did you tell him everything?"

"He already knew it all."

"Did he tell you everything?"

"Whenever he felt like telling me something, mostly he didn't. I was an employee, not a friend," Sebastian pointed out.

"You were close enough for him to will you all his possessions."

"All his useless crap," Moran pointed out. "I'm never forgiving him for the decorative glass dildos… ever."

John snorted, deciding to stop drinking before he accidentally inhaled his drink. "You do have to tell Molly though."

"I'm not sure I can."

"Seb, you've agreed to marry her. She's going to be tied to you, your name, your past. If people come after you because of your connections she's put in the way. She deserves to know. She was Sherlock's friend too."

"John, if I tell her then she'll have to go. She's too much of a good girl. She can't rectify that part of herself with what I am."

"Then you don't need to be marrying her," John said.

"John!" Sebastian snapped. He was angry, but only because he was sure that John was right. How long until she found out? Or would he keep this secret forever? Was that his plan? To lie to her forever.

"You know… what I don't get is why you went out with her in the first place."

"What do you mean? She's beautiful, why wouldn't I?"

"She's a very lovely woman, you dislike dead bodies and she's shy and awkward. She told me you were there to find Moriarty, that wasn't the reason, was it?"

"Oh no, that's why I was there," Sebastian said.

"Not to see her?"

"Well…" Moran trailed off, taking a big swig of his drink just to hold off having to say. John was looking at him expectantly. "Um… James told me to take care of her for him."

"Excuse me? He what?"

"As a rule… James Moriarty never does anything for only one reason, and any person he becomes involved with becomes one of his, and only he gets to pass judgment on them."

"That's..."

"Twisted, yes, but it's how he saw the world… toys he just hadn't picked up yet. The good news is that you were one of his too."

"I didn't need to know that… wait a minute, he wasn't interested in me."

"He strapped explosives to you, he interacted with you. That's enough," Sebastian said. "But, then I imagine it's more like he saw you like a chew toy for Sherlock Holmes."

"So, we Sherlock is favorite toy?" John asked, having trouble wrapping his brain around the philosophy.

"More like his disobedient hound," Sebastian said.

"Oh, that's a lovely image," John muttered, scrubbing his hands over his face.

"John?" Sebastian asked, leaning in.

"What?" John said from behind his hands.

"I'd appreciate it, that if you're going to end… this… that we stop this conversation here. It's too familiar."

John sighed, letting his hands drop back onto the table. He didn't speak for a moment. A very long moment. "I've thought about it for a while… in fact I'm still not sure that I'm making the right choice, but I'll stick by it. You know I'll feel guilty if I agree to this. You helped the man who helped to destroy my best friend."

"And you helped the man who destroyed the most important person in my life," Sebastian said, taking a steadying breath. "I'm never going to defend Mr. Moriarty. He was a crazy fuck, and sometimes I hated him so bad I couldn't stand it… but That's not going to change that he was there for me when I needed someone, even if it was only to amuse himself. I can't… I don't want to say I'm ashamed of anything when I'm not. You understand," Sebastian said.

"Yeah, I do," John said, thinking of the work he kept trying to do in order to clear Sherlock's name. "You realize I'm always going to hate Moriarty?"

"And I'm always going to hate Sherlock Holmes," Moran said. "The question is… can we both live with that?"

"Can you?"

"I can, I have been," Moran said. He paused for a moment and then pressed on. "Can you?"

John sighed heavily. "It's hard."

"I know."

"Seb, you've absolutely got to tell Molly. You've got to."

"Is that a yes?" Sebastian asked.

"Yes… I'm afraid it is," John said with a weak smile. He watched the tension leave Sebastian's shoulders. "I'm still angry at you. I'm not just going to get over that."

"I can accept that." Sebastian said.

"So..." John said. "What had you so messed up on Sunday?"

"Ah, yeah, you were there," Sebastian said. They hadn't really spoken on Sunday, and he'd been very out of it. Sunday felt more like a dream than anything else. "I hadn't slept for 50 hours."

"Yeah, but I imagine you wouldn't be quiet so… off."

Sebastian scrubbed his face. "Just work… things. Please, don't ask."

"No, I want to know."

"John, you do not want to know. I don't want to know what I did."

"Was it particularly awful?"

"I'm very good at a few things… I'm a brilliant shot," he said, glancing at John who nodded. "Second is that I'm brilliant at… disposal. I'm not going to go into it much deeper than that."

"As in…"

"As in James never could figure out exactly what I did. Drove him nuts."

"That's… very good."

"And it makes me very sick, even he couldn't ask me to keep doing it… I think he liked leaving hints and trails anyway," Sebastian said, taking a large drink, just because he was starting to remember what he'd done.

"For someone who worked for… him, you've got a lot of conscious."

"Only about certain things."

"You're not a good man," John said, repeating something he'd been told a number of times before. "When are you going to tell Molly."

"Soon… after this weekend. I can't not go this weekend, and if I go without her then I'll never hear the end of it… you won't tell?"

"She won't listen to me if I try," John said.

* * *

"Molly, we really don't have to do," Sebastian said, looking out of the cab's window as they parked in front of his aunt's house. Molly's family had a nice house, but his aunt's land came from his first husband.

"You promised them," Molly said, her eyes going wide. "Is this were you lived?"

"No, this was where my dad's sister lived," Sebastian said. "We can always turn around."

"Come on, we're already here," Molly said, nudging against him until he had to get out or be crushed by her. He got out, helping her out. She smiled and went up on her toes, kissing his cheek. "I love you Seb, it'll be okay."

"Hey, what did you call me?" He asked, suddenly smiling like a fool.

"Seb… that's okay, right?" Molly asked, suddenly getting nervous.

Sebastian smiled, slipping his hands down to rest on her backside, his lips finding hers for a happy kiss. "No, it's wonderful," he said, rubbing his nose against hers.

"Excuse me," the cabbie said.

"Fine, fine," Moran said, pulling out his money and paying the cabbie before getting their bags. His was just a lightly packed duffle and a small suitcase for Molly. "Let's get this over with."

"You shouldn't talk about your family like that," Molly chastised gently.

"Yeah, just don't be surprised when they start telling you how good you are for reforming me," he said. They'd already had the 'they thought I was gay' discussion. He slung his bag over his shoulders and started to roll her bag before offering her his free hand. She just smiled at him and tucked herself against his side. He returned her smile and slipped his arm around her shoulders. Only she would be able to get him to come to his meeting.

"So, you did show up."

"Yes, August, I did show up," Sebastian said, looking up to where his brother stood on the porch. August Moran was a few years older than his brother. They had the same broad shoulders, though the trim figure August had clearly came from a gym treadmill and not survival. His blonde hair was slicked back from his face and he looked very handsome. In fact, both brothers looked very similar.

"This is your girlfriend."

"Fiancée," Molly said, walking up the steps, waiting for Sebastian. She smiled and showed off her ring just like she'd been showing it off all week. "Molly Hooper, it's a pleasure to meet you, August," she said.

"Let me see," August said, lifting her hand to examine the ring. "Did you steal it?"

Molly snatched her hand away. "I'm sorry, but Sebastian came here on good faith. I don't think it's appropriate for you to chastise him," she said.

"I… I'm sorry," August said, looking thoroughly surprised and properly chastised.

Sebastian smiled, slipping his arm around Molly and kissing the top of her head. "I love you too," he said, making her look up. They smiled at each other like they were the only two peopled in the world. August had to clear his throat three times before they noticed.

"Please, come in," he said, opening the door for them. "Just set your bags by the door. Someone will take them up soon," August said. He led them into the sitting room. "Aunt Ginny, they're here."

The woman was older, her long white, grey, and peppered black hair pulled back into a severe bun. She looked like the matronly disapproving aunt in one of the old period dramas. Seb was pretty sure that his aunt had modeled her life on an old period drama, so that was quiet fitting. "You did show up."

"Why does everyone think I wouldn't come?"

"We haven't see you in 14 years, Sebby," August said, going to his aunt's side.

Molly giggled. "Sebby?" she asked, making Sebastian blushed.

"Only James is allowed to call me that," he said through gritted teeth. Molly stopped giggling immediately and laced their fingers.

"Oh," their aunt said. "Hello dear, I'm Ginerva Moran," she said.

"Finally went back to the family name?" Sebastian said. "Couldn't keep the other five straight?" He asked.

"Sebastian, stop," Molly said, easily able to read that he'd hit a sore point in his aunt. "I'm Molly Hooper, Sebastian's fiancée. It's lovely to meet you."

"Oh, fiancée," aunt Ginny said. "Please come sit," she said, smiling and offering Molly a seat near her chair. "How did you ever wrangle our dear Sebastian into marriage?"

Molly smiled pleasantly, sitting down in the spot indicated. Sebastian picked a spot on the sofa where he could at least touch her. It also put him partially away from his aunt Ginny. "I wouldn't say I wrangled him. I think it's more like the other way around," she said, letting aunt Ginny see her ring since she also seemed interested.

"I must say, it saddens me that Sebastian has been hiding you from us, you seem very lovely Ms. Hooper."

"Molly's fine… and I'm sure he hasn't been hiding me. We've not been together that long," she admitted. "A guess it's a whirlwind romance," she said with a blush at how silly that sounded.

"Sebastian, is this true? When did you meet Molly?"

"Um… about four, nearly five months now," Sebastian said.

"You do work fast, that other one was quiet smitten with you."

"You mean James?" Molly asked, smiling pleasantly.

"Yes, what happened to dear old James?"

"He died," Sebastian said.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't pretend you aren't happy that he's not around anymore," Sebastian snapped.

"No, I am sorry," aunt Ginny said. Sebastian didn't believe her for a second. "What happened to him?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," Sebastian said.

"I understand. It can be hard to lose your significant other."

"Oh, for the love of Christ!"

"Sebastian, language, please," August said.

"I'm not gay," Sebastian said. "James was my best friend. It made dad happy, can you both just get off it?"

Aunt Ginny now looked truly delighted. Sebastian wasn't sure if it was because she'd been right or because she now had something to pick at him about all weekend. "Oh, you poor dear, why didn't you tell us?"

"Because neither of you would shut up, and you tried to shoot James' balls off-"

"Language," August said again.

"Sebastian," Molly said, gently, resting her hand on his knee. He stopped and took a steadying breath. He probably looked right crazy. She didn't know what it was like with those two. Hell, they'd never show her because they actually liked her.

"I'm sorry," he said, grudging, but he said it.

"It's alright. I forgive you, and I'm sure Christ will be happy to accept you back into his arms," aunt Ginny said. Sebastian wondered if she really thought God would do anything on her recommendation. He kept that thought very tactfully to himself.

"Fine," Sebastian said through gritted teeth.

"Molly, dear," his aunt said. "How did you two meet, I'm sure it's very romantic," she said.

Molly smiled. "Not really. I met him in the morgue. He was looking for James."

"The morgue? I'm sorry, did you lose someone?"

"No, I work in the morgue at St. Bartholomew's," she said.

"Oh," aunt Ginny said, clearly not sure how to assimilate that piece of data. "Is it very rewarding?"

"Well… I mean, it's not like saving the living," Molly said. "But the dead needed to be tended to, and the families of the dead. Sometimes I help with investigations. Sometimes the work we do with the dead can help save other lives," Molly said. "It's okay to be uncomfortable. Sebastian hates coming to visit me at work."

"Oh, you do?" August asked.

"I'm not a fan of dead bodies," Sebastian said simply. He reached out and took Molly's hand. And they both smiled at each other again.

"Sebastian, why don't you tell us how you proposed?" aunt Ginny asked.

"I'm a bit unclear about it," Sebastian said.

"Were you drunk?"

"No, I'd gotten off a 50 hour shift," Sebastian said. "I do some independent security work, and I worked an art gallery last weekend. I'd gotten enough to buy the ring I had set aside for Molly and went to see Molly with her family… and it just kind of happened. It wasn't exactly like I planned it to be," he admitted.

"It was perfect," Molly said.

"Just last week, very soon, congratulations," aunt Ginny said. Sebastian was surprised because the words didn't sound false in his ears.

"Thank you," Molly said. "I'm very happy. Sebastian is really wonderful. He takes such good care of me. Normally he'll be at my flat making dinner for us for when I come home, or he'll have left me something specially when he leaves in the morning."

"Seb, are you turning into a house wife?" August asked, but it wasn't a mean tease, not really. Hell, Sebastian had made those jokes himself.

"I'm doing a bit of freelance since my previous employer died," Sebastian said. "I haven't found any permanent employment. Don't worry, I put enough aside."

"You better get back to work so you'll have enough for the wedding. You don't want to make Molly pay for everything," aunt Ginny said.

"Sebastian does very well for himself. We haven't even started talking about the wedding yet," Molly added.

"You should. You know how expensive weddings can be."

"She would know," Sebastian said.

"Seb, stop," Molly said in a voice that was not to be crossed. Sebastian shut his mouth.

"Molly, you said you help with investigations?" August asked, neatly changing the topic.

"Yes, a few," she said.

"Anything exciting?"

"Not like before, but yes, I have helped with a few interesting ones," Molly said.

"Like what?" August asked. Sebastian nearly rolled his eyes. He'd forgotten how much is brother had liked detective stories when they'd been growing up.

"Oh, I'm sure that's not interesting," Molly said, suddenly realizing that maybe she shouldn't have said what she did.

"I'm sure it is. Didn't that fake detective jump off the hospital roof?" aunt Ginny asked. "I'd heard he spent a lot of time around there? Must have been dreadful, can you imagine someone having all those people killed or kidnapped just to impress people."

"Aunt Ginny!" Sebastian said, gripping Molly's hand tightly. He glared at the older woman. "Stop it, you're way over line. There's no way Sherlock Holmes was a fake."

"oh, like you'd know."

"I would, I met him once," Sebastian said. "I absolutely hate him, but no one can fake all the crap he did. Anyone with a brain that works can figure that out if you think about it for any length of time. It's just easier to accept what's in the news papers."

"Well I never!" aunt Ginny said.

"Sebastian, please," Molly said gently. "I'm sorry for him. He's trying to help me. Sherlock Holmes was a… very dear friend. He would never do those things that awful Riley woman said… and Jim Moriarty… yes, he's very real," she said, blushing and looking down.

"Oh… I'm sorry then… you know the papers," aunt Ginny said.

"Yes, I do," Molly said.

"August, can you show us the room we'll be in?" Sebastian asked.

"Yeah," August said, leading them back to their bags and then up to the second floor where the guest room was.

"We'll be down in a minute," Seb said, dropping the bags and looking at Molly. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm sorry," Molly said. She walked to him and he slipped his arms around her.

"I'm sorry about them, they're just awful people," Sebastian said.

"Seb!" Molly chastised, but she smiled up at him. "I didn't know you'd met Sherlock before."

"What?"

"You said you met him."

"I lied," Sebastian said, mentally cursing himself.

"Oh come on, you don't lie, not like that anyway."

"How do you know?"

"You sound different when you lie," she said. It did not make him comfortable that she could pick up on that. "Come on, when did you meet him?"

Sebastian shook his head. "It's painful… please, not now," he said softly.

"Later?"

"Later."

"Promise?"

Sebastian hesitated for a moment. "Yes, I promise."


	8. Chapter 8

On Saturday, August's children and wife came. Violet was a sweet, very lovely woman that took to Molly instantly. Of all Sebastian's relatives he'd always hated her the least. She never judged him the way his brother and aunt did… he did judge her for having married August, but that was neither here nor there. Their two children, Tom and Lara were both about to be teenagers. They didn't know they're uncle at all.

"If you're our uncle, how come we never met you before?" Tom asked, lounging across his new(old) uncle's legs.

"I travel for my work," Sebastian said, glancing at Molly who had Lara tucked up beside her. Lara was apparently not yet old enough to not want to deal with adults, and was looking at Molly to try and imitate everything about a grown up woman that she could.

"What kind of work?" Tom asked.

"Security," Sebastian said. "I protect people, and things."

"Like the police?"

"Not exactly,"

"Then what exactly?" Lara interjected.

"I'm an independent contractor, which means that I have control over what clients I pick to work with. I'm paid very well to protect very wealthy people and their things." At least that was what he planned to do now.

"Is it dangerous?" Tom wanted to know.

"It can be."

"Do you work for bad people?" Lara asked.

"I work for my clients, it doesn't matter who they are."

"Would you protect Hitler?" Tom asked.

"It's not right to just kill someone, no matter who they are," Sebastian said. "Besides, assassinations make thing morally ambiguous and then it's harder to be happy about someone awful being gone."

"Sebastian!" came a three pronged chorus from Molly, Violet and August.

"Yeah, yeah," Sebastian said. "Congratulations on naming your children perfectly normal names."

"It would be cruel to name someone after you," August said.

"The singing cartoon crab rather killed it," Sebastian answered.

"Don't be like that, I think it's a wonderful name," Molly said and Seb found himself beaming.

"Is that what you plan to name your first?" Violet asked with a sneaky smile. Molly blushed.

"We haven't even picked a date for the wedding yet, it's too soon," she said. Seb found himself letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. At one point in his life he had wanted the whole get married and settled down with kids and a house bit… but he didn't know if he still wanted that. He wanted Molly in his life. She was wonderful, his perfect gift. He expected she'd want children eventually, but as he wasn't even six months out from James' death, he didn't think he'd be willing to start having kids any time soon. It was too much, too soon, and a part of him was afraid that Molly was going to leave him the second she found out who he really was. The last thing they needed was a child in the mix.

"You okay?" Tom asked softly.

"Hmm, what?" Sebastian asked softly. The other people in the room were distracted with Molly.

"You looked sad."

"No… maybe, it's an adult thing."

"Adults can be sad too," Tom said.

"Being an adult can be very, very hard… I'm still not sure I'm fit for it."

"But you're old!"

"I'm only 38," Sebastian grumbled. But yeah, two years off from 40. Fuck! He couldn't remember having honestly cared before when his whole mission in life was keeping his boss alive, but now he was headed down the road to paying normal bills and having a normal life. He still hadn't figured out what to do about work. He was still grieving. He still had to kill Sherlock Holmes. His relationship with John was still messy and awkward. The only thing going right in his life was Molly. It was easy to forget when he was surrounded by so much domesticity that this wasn't going to last. He'd tell her and it would be all over.

"Sebastian?" Violet asked.

"Yes?" Seb answered.

"Where are you two going to live once you get married?"

"Live?"

"Well, yes, you can't both keep different flats," Violet pointed out. Sebastian's first reaction was 'why not?' Sebastian Moran owned property in a number of different countries. What was wrong with having a second flat in London? But he didn't say that out loud. That seemed like the wrong thing to say.

"Well, that depends on what Molly wants… I'm happy as long as I'm with her."

"So, you'd be okay moving into my flat?" Molly asked.

"I practically live there anyway," Seb pointed out.

"But yours is nicer."

"Then we can live there… I don't actually care Molly, whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?" she asked and got a dangerous little twinkle in her eye. He knew where she was going. He considered stopping her, but she was so angry at how August kept trying to lend his brother money… on the sly, but August was not a very secretive guy.

"What about some of your other places? The ones in Russia?"

"I was thinking about selling them. I really don't think you want to live in Siberia, though the one is Moscow's nice," Sebastian said. "I'll keep them if you want."

"I might like to see them," Molly said.

"You have… places in Russia?" August asked, looking like they were putting on a play for his family.

"Yeah. I mean, they're okay. The one in New York is nicer…. Way more expensive, but if Molly wanted to live there I'd be happy with that."

"What about the one is LA?" Molly asked.

"LA is awful. I keep it for convenience only. My God! The air there is toxic waste," Sebastian said, rolling his eyes. "I rent a place in a southern state, the air there is nicer. It's not as glamorous at the one in New York, but not near as toxic, and they're less likely to hit you with a car."

"New York?" August says. His voice sounds off, too stunned and breathy. Sebastian's playing it up for Molly… but he can't help that August's expression is so beautiful. Sebastian's allowed to enjoy himself for a while.

"Yeah, I told you, independent contractor and security. People pay very well for their safety, and the very rich are always, always paranoid," he said. "I used to have a place in Tokyo… again, convenience, but the rent was insane." He sighed heavily. He'd liked that place too, but even James Moriarty wouldn't have been able to afford the continued rent on that place.

"I thought…" August trailed off.

"That I was a broke loser, yeah, I know," Sebastian said. "I do okay for myself. The same things dad taught you he taught me."

August looked uncomfortable. He knew what he needed to say, but clearly didn't want to. Finally Violet nudged him with her foot as if to say 'August, what example are you setting for our children?' He sighed. "Okay Seb, I'm sorry."

Sebastian let out a deep sigh. It was… cleansing. "Thank you." There, that simple, things cleared up. Well, cleared up enough for one weekend. He glanced at Molly who was smiling. Sneaky little mouse. He smiled, just a bit. His sneaky little mouse. How was he going to live without her?

* * *

The rest of the weekend passed with little trouble. Sebastian still felt like his aunt and brother thought they were better than him. He still fought with them both. He still felt stressed to be there with them. He still hated them. Yet it was just easier. Molly made it easier. The weekend was bearable because Molly was there with him. She laughed and smiled and held his hand and held him. He felt loved, really loved.

It just made Monday so much harder to face. He took Sunday evening for himself and Molly. He called ahead, ordering food for them from a very fine restaurant to be delivered (know the right people and have enough money and everything's possible). He'd spent a lot of time quietly cleaning Molly's flat since he started essentially living there. He'd always be a creature of order. The place looked extra nice because he'd had Mrs. Hudson stop by and give it a clean-up. ("I'm not a house keeper." "I know, but the only people I know in this city besides Molly are you and John, and John can't clean anything to save his life." "He's not that bad." "Mrs. Hudson, please, I'm desperate. I want to surprise Molly with a nice evening. It's to celebrate our engagement. We haven't had time yet." "Oh, then I'd be happy to do it.")

Molly was surprised when they arrived home Sunday evening and the place was clean, with candles and a nice dinner already laid out, champaign chilling in a bucket of ice, and a nice set of clothes laid out for both of them. They both took very quick showers and changed into their nicer clothes. Seb unpacked their bags while Molly was in the shower. It took them almost no time. The food was still hot when they sat down.

"I don't understand, I already said yes," Molly said.

"Well… maybe I just wanting something good to remember from this weekend," Sebastian said, smiling at her from his side of the table. He'd tell her on Monday. He wanted Sunday for himself, though. "Just... just think of it as a taste of what I would have done for you."

"You didn't have to," Molly said.

"I wanted to," Sebastian answered. He did. Maybe it was like a bribe. Maybe he was buttering her up. He wouldn't deny the accusations, but mostly he just wanted to hold onto them for just a moment. He knew it would shatter. He was certain.

"So, Seb, what else do you have on the schedule this evening?"

"A bit of Edith Pilaf and Frank Sinatra and some dancing. Did you know there's really no good place to dance in London?"

"I'm sure that's not true."

"Everything up to my standards has people who are more the sticks up their arses than their own personalities," Seb grumbled. Molly laughed. It was a beautiful sound.

"And after?" Molly asked.

"A nice sorbet is chilling in the freezer, which I expect we should eat after the dancing to cool off, maybe a bit of cuddling on the sofa, move things into the bedroom later."

"I do have work tomorrow," Molly said.

"Blow it off."

"I might," Molly said. They both knew that she really needed to go, having gotten time off for their weekends. Sebastian didn't care. If the hospital huffed about it, he'd use his dirty little back pocket trick: an investigation into the hiring process of the hospital and how _Richard Brooke_ and unqualified actor was not only allowed to work in the hospital, but was given all kinds of access to patient records.

"Just us, Molly. Just us tonight and what we want and now. How does that sound?" Sebastian asked, feeling like he'd probably just quoted a cheesy romance movie somewhere, but not really caring.

Molly smiled and took a sip of her champaign. "It sounds perfect, Sebastian."

* * *

Molly doesn't go to work in the morning. She calls in sick. She does so because Lara apparently spiked a fever of 102, and whatever she'd been incubating over the weekend she gave to Molly. She actually has to call in sick. Sebastian is sympathetic, but he doesn't get sick anymore. He expects he had every virus and bacteria in the world at this point and simply worked through the pain and illness because doing otherwise would mean that James would put his out of his misery.

"I hate this," she said, watching Sebastian fluff about every blanket in the house around her on her sick throne (the sofa).

"I do to, but best thing for you is to try and get well. We can't have you wandering around the hospital. You patients might catch it," he said, earning a punch in the shoulder.

"Stop it, that's a terrible joke, Seb," Molly said before flopping back on the sofa. "I hate this… you know what I hate more than being sick?"

"What?" Sebastian asked, slipping his arms around her and holding her because he thought she could use it.

"I hate sick food, I hate it. I hate chicken noodle soup. It's awful."

"Not the way I make it."

"Fresh out of a can?"

"No, real home-made soup, make the broth and everything," he said, leaning in and kissing the tip of Molly's nose.

"You'll get sick too if you keep this up."

"I'll be fine," Sebastian assured her. Secretly he was very pleased. He could put the conversation off until Molly's cold was better. "Now," he said, putting the remote in her hand. "Drink all the water I gave you, watch your Glee marathon. I'm going to go to the store and buy food. Toby's in charge while I'm gone," he said. On cue Molly cat jumped up on the sofa and made himself at home in the blankets.

Molly laughed and tugged Sebastian in for a hug. "I love you, Seb."

"I love you too, Molly."

* * *

Tesco was just as uneventful as it always was, though Sebastian spent a good five minutes debating about buying a doughnut from the Krispy Kreme display. He did this every time he came to Tesco and had yet to give in. They had a nice rack of sprinkled covered ones that reminded him of the one time James had gone with him and bought about a dozen of them. They split them and ate them over two days so they didn't get sick. Sebastian didn't even really like sprinkles but he did it to keep his boss from spontaneously developing diabetes. The memory kept his staring far longer than his desire for a bearclaw. Knowing that Molly shouldn't be having something like that when she was sick was what got him moving again.

Getting everything was easy. Checking out was a pain. Sebastian had watched John get into a fight with a U-Scan (he'd been in the States when he first came across the stupid things) machine once. Sebastian knew how to not, but he was still left frustrated by the press of people trying to hurry him along. He'd apparently picked a bad time to shop. He was just glad he could catch a cab back for all the heaviness of his load. No sense doing more work than he needed to.

He was thinking about chicken broth when he unlocked the door to Molly's flat. Five seconds later, chicken broth was probably the further thing from his mind. Somehow in all his worries about John and Molly and his own family weekend from hell, Sebastian Moran had somehow forgotten about Sherlock Holmes. He hadn't forgotten about him in the abstract, but somehow it seemed like Sherlock should have understood the 'don't approach Molly or John' threat as serious.

"Seb, oh please don't freak out," Molly said, hoping up from where she sat on the sofa next to Sherlock. They body had cups of tea in their hands, and the blankets were lying on the floor. Molly wasn't sniffling anymore.

Very carefully Sebastian walked to the kitchen with the bags and put everything away. It gave him a moment to compose himself. He knew a few things. The first was that Molly wasn't actually sick, though he didn't let know why she was faking that. The second was that Sherlock Holmes had come to Molly's flat. The third was that Molly seemed worried about him. He finished putting the food away and went out to the living room.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

"Oh, Seb, I'm sorry," Molly said, taking his hand and dragging him over to his favorite chair. She had him sit down.

"What for? For letting someone I despise into our flat, or for lying about being sick?"

"Both," Molly said. "Sebastian… I didn't know how else to tell you."

"Tell me what?" Sebastian demanded, his eyes flicking over to Sherlock Holmes who suddenly stood up.

"Molly invited me over," Sherlock said and Sebastian hated him. He hated him for talking to Molly at all. Wait, what?

"You invited him."

"Seb."

"You invited him? Him?" he demanded.

"Yes," Molly said, taking a deep breath. "Sebastian… Sherlock's alive."

"Obviously," he said, scoffing.

"I mean… Sebastian… Sherlock and I worked out how to escape him dying. I'm sorry about… about what James did to himself because of it, but Sherlock can't help that. It's not his fault."

"I'm not sure about that," Sherlock scoffed.

"Sherlock, please," Molly snapped before turning back to Sebastian. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. You just seemed to hate him so much… but you said you'd met him before."

"Why?" Sebastian asked, not really getting his mind around it all yet. "Why would you hide this from me?"

"I didn't… Sebastian, Moriarty threatened to kill John and Mrs. Hudson, and one of our other friends if Sherlock didn't kill himself, and then he killed himself and there was nothing Sherlock could do. If he came out as alive then John or the others could have been killed. We have to keep it hidden," she said.

"We?" Sebastian demanded, standing up because he couldn't take the fact that he was the only one still seated anymore. "We had to keep it hidden?" He asked.

"Yes. It was better that way, safer for Sherlock and our other friends," Molly explained.

"We you… you helped him," Sebastian said. "You helped him fake his death, you kept his secret."

"More than that," Sherlock interjected.

"Sherlock, please," Molly said, looking uncomfortable already.

"No, Molly," Sherlock said, putting a specific spin on the words. "You've done so much to help me, I don't think that should be under played," he said before turning on Moran. "You lovely girlfriend was the one who took care of me after I fell, the one who helped me fool Mycroft, the one who gave me a place to stay for a few days while I got myself sorted out."

"You… helped him cover it up?" Sebastian asked. "How?"

"Just… just a few things," Molly said, a timidity in her voice Sebastian hadn't heard in weeks. He hadn't missed it. He hated to hear it now, but then he also hated what she had to say.

"I did help him heal, but mostly it was just a bit of first aid. And… well they needed a body," she said.

"A body," Sebastian said dully.

"Yes, we needed to get with of Moriarty's body as well… so I made sure that he got buried at Sherlock's grave instead," she said. She sounded half afraid and half so proud of herself. Sebastian just stared between the two of them. Molly's eyes were pleading with him to understand. Sherlock's were smirking.

This… she was why she hadn't been able to find James' body. She was why James Moriarty was buried at a grave marked for Sherlock Holmes. She was why Sherlock was even alive when James had put a bullet through his own brain. She was the one. She was the reason.

"I'm going out," Sebastian said.

"Seb, please, wait!" Molly said.

"I need to think!" Sebastian snapped and stormed out, heading to someplace where he hoped he could get the smirking face of Sherlock Holmes out of his mind.


	9. Chapter 9

Sherlock feels completely satisfied watching Moran storm out of Molly's flat… well, storm isn't the correct word, leave with a whimper and his tale between his legs seems more fitting. He's not killing angry, not yet. John's within Mycroft's sight as well, so he'll be safe. There's something very satisfying about making the sniper hurt. It pissed him off, watching one of Moriarty's own slip right into Sherlock's old life. Sherlock didn't like sharing. He hated having to give up Molly, but John was his friend. Sherlock wasn't going to share John as a friend with one of Moriarty's followers.

"Well, that went well," Sherlock said, slipping down into Moran's chair.

"Well?" Molly's voice got high pitched when she was angry. "How did that go well?"

"He didn't kill anyone."

"Shut up, Sherlock," Molly said. Sherlock's eyes flicked over to her. He hadn't expected it. Molly didn't snap. She certainly didn't tell him to shut up. She was the girl who was in love with him, and he never couldn't get what he wanted from her. She very rarely even raised her voice to him. He remembered her snapping at him about Jim from IT, but that was about it.

"What, Molly, you do realize who you've gotten into bed with?"

"My fiancé," she said, holding up the ring he'd noticed but assumed was some kind of gift.

"Fiancé?"

"Yes, as in we've been engaged for only a week and if he breaks it because of you…" she trailed off, so mad she couldn't find words.

"You invited me." It wasn't his fault.

"Because he'd said he'd met you and because he does security and because if he knows then he can help protect John, and then you can come home," Molly said.

Sherlock gave her his best 'are you really that stupid' look. "You think he'll protect John?"

"I know he will."

"Then you don't know him as well as you think you do."

"I know him fine Sherlock."

"What do you know about him then?"

"He's brilliant, not like you or Jim, but like John or Lestrade, the normal kind of brilliant," she said. "I know that he loves me and that he's protective of me. I know he paid to have security installed in my flat, and bugged John until he did the same for his. I know that he exchanges recipes with Mrs. Hudson, and he goes out to drink with John. I know that he's still grieving his friend. I know that Mrs. Hudson trusts him. I know that not only does John trust him, but Sebastian told him his secret and John still is his friend… and I know that I trust him."

"Well, John's an idiot."

"Sherlock!"

"He is, if he'd just accept your _fiancé_ ," he put a particularly nasty emphasis on the word. "After he knew the truth. I noticed he hasn't told you yet."

"He will," Molly said.

"And if he doesn't?"

"He will."

"And if he doesn't?"

"He will, Sherlock. He's going to tell me one day because he can't stand to not tell me."

"How can you know?"

"Because he told James everything, and because he already told John."

"You really think he'll tell you the truth."

"I know he will, Sherlock. Whatever it is he'll tell me."

"You're an idiot. He's not going to tell you. He's not going to tell you that he used to-" a hand settled over his mouth, muffling the rest of the sentence.

"Don't. Tell. Me." Molly said, looking Sherlock in the eyes. "I wouldn't let John tell me, what make you think I'll let you."

"What makes me think that?" Sherlock asked. Did he need to bring up the way she'd done everything he wanted since the day they met?

"Seb's the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I'm going to wait until he tells me."

"Oh, why-" the hand came down over his mouth again.

"I mean it Sherlock. If you tell me what Sebastian's secret is then I'll call up John right now and tell him that you're alive." Molly's tone, her whole being was calm. It came from being more than once woken up with a gun to her temple when her shifting set Sebastian off. It didn't happen near as much anymore, but she'd quickly come to some kind of odd calm in those situations.

"If you do that then John will be killed," Sherlock said, glaring at her.

"Then you better not tell me," she said simply. "I've done a lot for you, and I care about you, but this man is going to be my husband and I'm going to have to trust him with my life. If I can't trust him now then there's no point in the marriage." She stopped, taking a step back. "I think you should go."

"Yes, that seems like a good idea," Sherlock said, spite in his voice, looking at Molly like she had jumped sides. He walked out the door.

Molly sighed heavily and sank into Sebastian's chair. She didn't know how to tell Sherlock that he had helped to confirm what she'd been thinking might be true… and that John Watson was probably safer than Sherlock was at this moment.

* * *

It wasn't easy for Sebastian to find somewhere to go. There was basically nowhere that didn't remind him of Molly or Sherlock or James. Finally he just gave up and ran to the place that was simultaneous the safest and the most gut wrenching.

"Damn it, James. I really screwed this one up," Sebastian said, looking down at the polished black headstone that read _Sherlock Holmes_. James Moriarty laid here and aside from three or four people, no one knew. He faded back into the shadows and no one would remember him, not even some random passerby who just saw the name someday.

Sebastian got on his hands and knees, starting to weed around Moriarty's deathbed. His boss would hate the mess if he saw it. Sebastian hated the mess from the lack of respect. This was James Moriarty's resting place and no one knew or respected that.

"I really fucked this one up," Sebastian said as he worked. "I ran out without telling Molly the truth. She knows by now for sure, James. She knows and it's over," he said. Why was this the easiest part to focus on? The pain of a lie exposed and the minor pain of pulling out weeds and stray grass bare handed?

"Oh James… she was so perfect. She was so perfect. She's so sweet and innocent and yet not at all. Is that what you saw in her? That she saw the danger in you and was interested instead of repulsed? Doctors aren't normal people, you told me that once. Normal people don't deal with death every day. An average person might, but not a normal one. She doesn't just deal with the possibility of death, all she deals with are the bodies, but she talks about it like it's the best job, and so important. Did she talk to you like that? How do you think she'd feel about my disposal abilities?"

He grabbed a particularly tough, slick piece of grass and ended up slicing his hand open. He didn't even blink, just kept working. The blood didn't make it easier to work, but it made the betrayal easier to swallow. "She's why you're here, James. She's why you're here and not him. She's why I could never find your body. She's why Sherlock Holmes is still alive even after he jumped off the damn building. She's why it's all fucked up now."

He continued to work the plot, so meticulous about his work. The grave looked perfect, and the others around it looked like trash, but he didn't care to get up and fix the others like he normally would have. All of his strength had been Moriarty's. He couldn't serve a new master now.

He shifted, sitting against the head stone and looking up into the grey sky. "The sun isn't out much, is it? It's not like you ever cared or really noticed, but sometimes I just wish it would rain a little less. If it was less wet in the small, tiny, insignificant little home we had then I wouldn't have my knees and arse all soaked through."

He sat in silence for a while, his brain working quickly, but his body feeling sluggish. "I did love you, you know. It wasn't like I even had a choice you just swallowed up my life. You have no idea how often I just wished… I wanted you to be my brother. I wished you were my father. They both left me at it was just you and I never had to pretend to be gay with you, or hide what I was. I like that destruction you did. I loved it and you fueled it. I've become so damn domestic recently… maybe it's time I go back to what I was before. I can't keep your final gift, it seems. You could have if you'd been alive… but then I'm not you, am I? and you're dead."

"Seb?"

Sebastian's headshot up. He looked straight into John Watson's eyes, and wondered how long he'd been there. Since when did he let his guard down so much? "Why are you here?" he finally settled on.

"Tried visiting on my own… what are you doing?"

"That depends," Sebastian said.

"On what?"

"How long have you been there?"

John looked a bit taken a back. His eyes shifted up and to the left, looking in his memories. "Something about you becoming domestic, maybe needing to revert, and talking to Sherlock like he's still alive. Which is odd."

"I wasn't talking to Sherlock."

"I mean, I do it to, but it's odd hearing you-"

"I wasn't talking to Sherlock Bloody Holmes."

"You're sitting on his grave."

Sebastian let out a short, barking laugh. "Is that what you think? Is that what you really think? Because you are badly, badly misinformed."

John's eyebrows knit together. "What?"

Sebastian let out that pain, barking laugh again. "He's not dead you bloody idiot."

"Not dead."

"No."

"No, I saw him, I saw him jump off-"

"Of the roof at St. Bart's, yeah I know. I guess the man is carried by Angels or falls like that just aren't what they used to be."

"I don't-"

"Of course you don't. He's done a bloody good job of hiding it, hasn't he? Hell, I didn't know till a few weeks, and then I suddenly got a hint."

"Two weeks, when you had me pay for all that expensive security?"

"The day I told you my secret."

"Why, why are you telling me this now?"

"because it's over John… it's just over, don't you see?" Moran asked, pounding the ground. "You know what this is? You see this, where I'm sitting with the shiny black headstone? You this plot of earth paid for by the Holmes family, the grave meant for you dam friend. This is the final resting place of James Moriarty. Of don't worry, I'm sure he found you sentiments very entertaining."

John looked sick, truly sick. Then that melted away for his soldier's face and stance. "You're drunk."

"I'm not bloody drunk, John!" Sebastian snapped. "It's just brilliant. It's just fucking brilliant. I mean, Moriarty himself couldn't have planned it better. I thought I hit rock bottom when I saw James put that bullet through his brain. It turns out I just still haven't hit it yet."

"Seb, I don't understand, what the hell are you talking about?"

"You don't get it do you?"

"No, I don't get it."

"Figures," Moran said with a puff of breath. He stood up, wiping the extra cold wet off the back of his jeans, though all that seemed to do was spread the still damp earth even more over his bum. He straightened up as well, moving into his soldier face and his soldier stance.

"What's going on?" Clearly John hadn't grasped that Sherlock really was alive yet. He probably wouldn't until he could see Sherlock and punch him in the face like he deserved… like they both deserved. It was too bad because Sebastian Moran didn't plan to stick around long enough for that.

"Our friendship is over now John, it's done."

"What the hell, after all that work?"

"Yes, John, after all that work you did trying to decide what to do with me. Our friendship ends right here, right now, over my Boss's cold dead body."

"He's not buried here. Sherlock's buried here. I went to his funeral, I saw them lower the casket into the ground."

"Closed casket to hide the bashed in face a bet?" Moran asked. John faltered.

"Yes."

"It was to hide the body of James Moriarty. Sherlock Holmes is alive. I just spoke to him."

"Sherlock's alive."

"Yes, he's alive. I spoke with him weeks ago."

"What the… why in the hell wouldn't he tell me?" John asked, finally starting to get it.

"Because if he so much as got near you then you would have died."

"How?"

"I would have put a bullet in your brain."

"Moriarty sent you to do that. That's why you got close to me," John said.

"I got close to be you because Molly set us up. James set it up real well so Sherlock should have died."

"Why… I don't understand," John said.

Sebastian sigh, about to give John the answer he'd been looking for since Sherlock's phone call. "It was simple, three snipers, three bullets. If Sherlock didn't kill himself then you and your police friend and Mrs. Hudson would die."

"Three snipers… three bullets… and you?"

"I was one of the three. James asked me to personally see to you. The other two went home once they were paid."

"And you stuck around."

"Because I had to find his body and because of Molly."

"Why did you meet her, why did you talk to her?" John asked.

"She was James' final gift," Sebastian said. "But that's over now to."

"You've told her?"

"Doesn't matter. I left Sherlock Bloody Holmes alone with her in her flat. I told him I'd finish my job if he got near you, and she bloody invites him up because she thinks I can help!" He's angry, angry and hurting and his voice gets loud.

"Molly knew."

"She's the reason he's alive," he said. The tone of these words was every bit as confused as he felt about them.

"Sherlock's alive."

"Not for long."

"Seb!"

"No, don't you get it? This," he motioned between the two of them. "This only worked because the battle lines were gone once the generals were dead. But your General's still alive, and there's no one left one mine's side."

"You don't have to go back."

"No. This is over, a stolen season. I already told you John. I'm not a good man," Sebastian said. His eyes were hard.

John's eyes met his, also hard, but mostly searching. He reached out, offering Sebastian his hand. "I told you that I would stick with this. You haven't killed me yet."

"I'm not going to. Don't worry about that."

"You have to finish the job."

"James is dead, John. You're the only friend I've ever had, and I'm not going to put a bullet him your head."

"Then this doesn't have to be over."

"I never said the same for Sherlock Holmes," Sebastian said.

"Stop it Seb, just stop," John said, the order in his voice. "Just take my hand."

Sebastian looked down at John's hand. He wanted to. He really did want to. That was obvious in his eyes. "I'm sorry Captain, but I've already had my dishonorable discharge," Sebastian said. He walked past John. He walked away. John didn't follow him.


	10. Chapter 10

"Molly!" John about shouted, pounding on the door. "Molly, open the damn door."

"Hold on," he heard on the other side of the door. He heard the tumbler lock and it took a moment before Molly got the door open. "John, what's going on?"

"Sherlock's alive?" John asked. He was searching her expression for anything, any sign of a lie. Instead she bit her lip and looked away before letting him in. She shut the door and locked it behind him. "How did you find out."

"Sebastian told me," John said. "He also told me that you buried Moriarty's body under Sherlock's grave, which I do not approve of," he said very vehemently.

"How did Sebastian know that?"

"Sherlock probably told him," John said through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry John," Molly said. "It wasn't safe for anyone to know. You're not supposed to know."

"Yeah, I heard about the snipers. No need to worry about that," John said darkly. "Where's Sherlock?"

"He's…" Molly trailed off. "What, why do I need to not worry?"

"Just don't… has Sebastian told you yet?"

"No, John, what's going on?"

"Molly, tell me where Sherlock is."

"I," she paused, hesitating. "I don't know. I threw him out when Sebastian left."

"Can you get him back, get in contact with him?"

"Yeah, I can get him back."

"Good, then I need you to call Sherlock and get him down here, right now. You need to call him right now. Then you need to call Seb and go find him."

"John, what's going on?" Molly asked, grabbing her cell phone and sending Sherlock a comeback text. "I'm not telling him you know. He won't come back if you know."

"Bit of a nasty surprise for him," John said approving. He dropped down onto the sofa. He absentmindedly found himself petting Molly's cat when it jumped up on his legs.

"John, what's going on?"

"Sebastian will tell you," John said. "Look… for Sherlock, for Sherlock you need to find Sebastian now… and for Sebastian, just go will you?"

"I'm not sure he'll want to see me."

John shook his head. "I think you're about the only person he'll see."

"It's about Jim, isn't it?" Molly asked.

"Jim?" John asked, hesitating.

"I had a hunch. Sherlock was too gleeful when Seb ran out."

"Just a hunch?"

"I'm more sure now."

"Now?"

"Sebastian would never hurt you," Molly said. "He's not that type of man."

"You have a lot of faith in him," John said. "That's rather dangerous."

Molly smiled shyly, going and pulling on her shoes. "Yeah, but that's half the fun, isn't it?" she asked.

John sighed heavily and shook his head. The people who got wrapped up with Sherlock were all like that: they loved the thrill. "Just go."

"Keep Sherlock here if you can," Molly said, grabbing her jacket and heading for the door. "And feed Toby for me while I'm gone, just the dry food."

"Will do," John said, waving to her when she left. All that was left to him now was to wait.

* * *

_Sherlock, come back. Urgent!_

_Molly_

* * *

Sherlock had been wandering around in some of the denser populated areas of London when he got the text. It wasn't like a sniper as good as Sebastian Moran wouldn't be able to get him there, but first he'd have to figure out where Sherlock was. Right now was the waiting time, waiting for the next move to be made. Moran wasn't smart like Moriarty, but he wasn't stupid. John might be in danger, but he'd be more in danger if Sherlock went to find him. No, it was better to wander.

Sherlock glanced at his phone, seeing the text. He about panicked when he saw it. He thought Molly was very stupid for not only trusting Moran, but for not wanting to know who Moran was. It was childish belief in true love that would be the end of her, he was sure. At the same time, when he saw the text he thought for sure that Moran had returned and was now after her. If Moran planned to kill Molly then it was too late. The only way she'd be alive would be if she were bait.

Sherlock still hailed a cab and told them Molly's address. Molly had helped him stay alive and to hide from everyone, even Mycroft. She'd seen his fear when no one else had even noticed. He owed her to come back, even if it was a trap. He couldn't just leave her alone.

It took no time and yet far too long to get to Molly's flat. He owed her. He couldn't just leave her to die. He threw money at the driver and sprinted up the stairs to Molly's flat. He grabbed the handled, turning. He knew it was a bad thing that the door simply opened instantly. He stepped in and shut the door quietly, looking for some kind of disturbance.

"Too you long enough."

Sherlock felt his heart slam into his chest. The very last thing he'd considered is seeing John again. Normally he didn't understand sentiment, but it was a bit different when it came it his only friend. He'd known very quickly in Dartmoor when he'd upset John. He knew that he was really going to hurt John when he jumped off the roof at Bart's. He'd known, but he'd had to do it anyway. He'd just hoped to be the one to tell John, to try and explain what happened.

"You know," Sherlock said. It was a bit obvious, but it seemed the most neutral and safe thing to say. He didn't turn to face John, though he could hear John turning the tumbler lock into place.

"Yeah, quite a shock, that." Bitterness was thick in John's voice. "Hearing that your best friend lied to you."

"I have lied before," Sherlock said, his voice very neutral.

"Not like this, Sherlock," John said. "Look at me."

Sherlock did. He turned at looked at John, who looked very whole and very angry. "I'm sorry."

"You damn well better be," John snapped. He walked right up close to Sherlock, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him down until they were nose to nose. "This isn't a little lie, and not something a little I'm sorry can cover."

"You would have died John," Sherlock said.

"Three snipers, three bullets, yeah I know!" John snapped.

"Molly told you," Sherlock said.

"No, Seb told me," John said.

"Moran told you?"

"Yeah, I owe you something," John said. He took a step back. Sherlock saw the punch coming, but he didn't move away. John knew he didn't move away. John deserved the right for it. That didn't mean that it didn't feel like he'd just had someone smash his face with a brick. Sherlock stumbled back, leaning over a bit to try and keep from falling over. He reached up, tentatively touching the spot.

"Do you feel better?"

"No, Sherlock, I don't feel better," John said, shaking out his hand. A good punch hurt both the person throwing the punch and the person receiving it. "You thought this would make a difference?"

"I couldn't have done it differently, John," Sherlock said. He did feel bad. "I am sorry. I can't go back and change it, and I wouldn't have. You shouldn't know now. You could get killed for knowing."

"No, Sherlock," John aid, walking around and starting to draw the drapes closed. "I won't."

"You think Moriarty's man won't put a bullet in your brain?"

"Seb won't," John said with the same conviction Sherlock had heard John use when defending Sherlock himself.

"You trust him." Sherlock could hardly believe it.

"He told me who he was when he didn't have to. He also gave me fair warning when he didn't have to. He'd not coming after me, he's coming after you."

"You do trust him."

"I'm probably the only friend he's got and he's one of the few I have. He's not going to kill me, but he is going to kill you, which is why you're doing to stay away from the windows and not leave Molly's flat," John said, pushing Sherlock into a chair.

"You can't keep me here."

"You jumped off a building to protect us. If I have to tied you to Molly's bed and bar the door with Moriarty's stripped pole to protect you, then I will," John said.

"Excuse me, Moriarty's what?" Sherlock asked.

John gave a decidedly neutral look and Sherlock knew that John was purposefully changing the subject. This wasn't something John could just get over, but it also wasn't an easy subject, not when John had gone back into soldier mode. "Apparently James Moriarty was a terrible impulse buyer. There are still some interesting popsicles from the Moriarty popsicle maker collection in the freezer. Would you like one?"

"Yes," Sherlock said, getting up and following John into the kitchen. "You actually trust Moran?"

"I trust him to kill you, if that's what you mean." John said. "Look, this is the place he designed to protect Molly, which included bullet proof glass. You're as safe here as anywhere else, so just shut up and eat your popsicle."

Sherlock accepted he pop he as handed, surprised at the odd blend of spices and fruit he found in it at the first taste. "I am sorry John."

"I know you are, but I'm bloody furious with you," John responded. "We have a good thing going and you screwed it all up. Just as bad is that you've ruined my friend as well. You know what he said to me? "It's over, John." That bloody idiot is about to throw away everything he cares about because you showed up as not dead."

"I'm… sorry?" Sherlock asked, not really understanding. "Do you want me to go back to being dead?"

"No!" John said instantly. "It's just… damn, it shouldn't be this complicated. Seb Moran isn't a good man, but he's a good guy. He's every bit as twisted as you are or I am, and it turns out that he's just as loyal as I am."

"If Moriarty was alive and I wasn't then you would kill him," Sherlock said, getting it now.

"The difference is that Seb isn't just throwing away his friend, he's throwing away the rest of what his life is because of some other idiot who blew a hole in his head. By the way Sherlock, we are going to have words later about you burying Moriarty in your plot."

"I thought that was fitting."

"It's creepy as fuck, that's what it is," John snapped. "And don't apologize again, I've heard it enough for one day."

"You're actually protecting me?"

"Isn't that what I always do, you tit?" John asked a bit fondly. Sherlock took that as progress.

* * *

_Where are you?_

_Molly_

* * *

_I'm at my flat._

_Seb_

* * *

_Don't you dare leave your flat before I get there Moran, or I will skin you._

_M_

* * *

Sebastian found himself staring at screen on his cell phone until it went dark and he had to key his password in again to keep staring. At first he wasn't completely sure that some weird disturbance hadn't kept one of Moriarty's texts from getting to him until months later. He partially wanted to believe that, except that he knew the number the text came from, and he knew what it meant. Molly knew. She knew who he was.

He'd known that Sherlock would tell, he'd known. He shouldn't have walked out of that flat. He should have stayed… she probably was dropping off the ring. Well, it was a good sign that she at least felt safe enough to do it herself… or maybe she was just so indignant that she didn't even think about. Either way he stayed routed on his couch until he heard the key turn in his door.

He jumped up then, looking around as if he could hid his riffle suddenly when he should have done that when he got the text. The only thing that happened though, was that he ended up standing next to his riffle with the silencer in his hand, and his other equipment all around him, looking like he was about to do what he was planning to do: kill Sherlock Holmes.

He felt his breath catch in his throat a bit when he saw her. He just hadn't expected to see her again. Instead of yelling at him, she turned and locked his door like he preferred and slipped her jacket off. "Seb, are you going somewhere?"

"A bit of left over work I didn't expect," he said, setting the silencer down.

"Not anything you want to tell me about?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Too bad," Molly said, moving past him to sit on the sofa. He blinked for a minute before turning to look down at her.

"Holmes told you?"

"No," Molly said. "He tried to, just like John did, but I wouldn't let them."

"I don't understand," he said. He pulled his phone back out, punching in his password to show hert he text. "You sent this, right?"

"I guessed," Molly said. "Sebastian… will you tell me?"

"I…" he trailed off, feeling his mouth go dry. "I don't want to."

"I need you to tell me, Sebastian. It's not fair for you to not tell me."

Sebastian sighed and moved away from her, going to lean against the island that separated his kitchen from the rest of the living room. "I used to work for James Moriarty, I still do since his payroll his still working and no one's figured out he's dead yet," Sebastian added.

"What did you do for him."

"Everything he asked."

"Can you give an example?" She sounded so curious, and far too innocent. When was this break and she was going to storm out.

"I was his sniper, his bodyguard, his stand in, whatever he needed me for," he said.

"Wow," Molly said, standing up and walking over to him.

"Why are you here, if you guessed."

"I didn't know that much, it was just a guess, I had to be sure," Molly said, coming to stand in front of him.

"Going to turn me in?"

"No."

"Going to hit me?"

"No."

"Going to give me the ring back?"

"No."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Well, I think I'm going to kiss you and then I'm going to know your head into the counter top for waiting so long to tell me," she said, pouting.

"Kiss me?"

"And knock your head into the marble, that's okay, right?"

Sebastian chuckled. He leaned down to give her a chaste kiss, but she caught him and dragged him down into one of the more passionate kisses they'd ever shared. It took him off guard enough that he gave her complete control of the kiss, and he ended up breathless once she pulled away.

"Are you going to knock my head into the marble now?" he asked with a wolfish smile.

"I'm thinking about it," Molly said. "You complete idiot."

"Why are you still here?"

Molly shook her head. She went up on her toes and kissed him again, a lot sweeter than the last kiss. "I got to take James Moriarty and his right hand… it's kind of sexy, isn't it?" she asked.

Sebastian stared at her, reassessing the woman who stood in front of him. Is this why James had picked her? Had she always been this wicked and he'd never noticed? "You're crazy."

"Maybe a little, and maybe I'll regret it in the morning, but for now I don't care," Molly said, grabbing him by his collar and dragging him down into another very passionate kiss. "I don't care, just take me to bed Seb. I don't want to think about it."

Seb happily obliged.


End file.
